


Fundamental things apply (as time goes by)

by apataeavaca



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 5 Things, Bottom Dean, Bottom Sam, Dean Has Realizations, Dean is Loved, Dean is such an old man, Domestic Fluff, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Getting Together, Idiots in Love, Incest, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Post-Episode: s11e17 Red Meat, Protective Dean Winchester, Sam is a Sweetheart, Sam is a lovesick puppy, Sam is loved, Sam-Centric, Sibling Love, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Soulmates, Switching, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, dean is an awesome big brother
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-02
Updated: 2017-09-13
Packaged: 2018-12-10 08:47:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 33,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11688165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apataeavaca/pseuds/apataeavaca
Summary: Here's a list of things no one ever knew about Sam Winchester:1 - He just pretends not to like Dean's jokes;2 - Dean's old Led Zeppelin shirt didn't just disappear that Summer in 1998, Sam stole it...3 - And he still has that shirt;4 - He didn't really like that girl in 8th grade, he just told everybody he did, so no one would notice who he really had a crush on at the time;5 - He is, and always have been, stupidly in love with his big brother.Or, the one where Sam is a little obsessed with Sixx:a.m. and Dean is awesome about it.





	1. Freaking skinny jeans, man.

**Author's Note:**

> Season 11. Somewhere between Read Meat and Hell’s Angel.
> 
>  
> 
> Sooo, I’m not being very accurate with the events of the story or whatever was going on in Season 11 at the time. The only thing that remains the same is the fact that Dean "killed himself" because he couldn’t bare being without Sam in Read Meat. I don’t even care what was happening with the other characters, I don’t really remember what was going on, but I do remember they were trying to stop Amara, and Sam and Dean sometimes mention that in this story, but very loosely, to be honest. I just wanted to write good things happening with these boys, so there it is <3
> 
> That being said, I would also like to tell you that English is not my mother language, so please excuse any mistakes you will much likely find in this piece. I reckon my vocabulary is also probably very basic, so I apologize for that too. I hope you enjoy the story anyway, regardless of that, because I loved writing all of it.
> 
>  
> 
> Lots of love <3

Sam couldn't exactly remember a time when he wasn't kind of in love with his big brother. As a kid, he would attach himself to Dean's ankles and follow him everywhere. He was pretty sure his first word had been his brother's name, and Dad had definitely written down in his journal something about Sam's first steps being towards Dean as well. He didn't know if the fact that he had so many strong feelings about his brother had something to do with the lives they had when growing up… or the way they had been raised closer than normal, drawn together by the horrors of their childhood, but he wasn't about to start blaming their father for raising them the way he did. At the end of the day, Sam actually thought Dad had done a pretty good job with them (regardless of the fact that Adam had been raised in considerably better conditions, which Sam wasn't that much bitter about anymore, anyway). He tried not to think about how their lives could have been if Mom hadn't died, but somehow he had the feeling that it wouldn't have mattered. The way he felt about Dean had nothing to do with the way they grew up, and everything to do with who he was.

He remembered Jess and the way he thought at the time that he had gotten over that stupid crush on his brother, just to have everything torn down by Dean tackling him to the floor that one night 10 years ago. When he thought back to it, Sam also remembered that one time when Zachariah made them normal people, but he still managed to find Dean and fall in love with him, even when they weren't brothers. Or that one time when they were actors in a show called Supernatural, and he still felt the same way. Or even that time when they went to heaven, and found each other just as easily... so, yeah, it had nothing to do with being brothers, and it had nothing to do with growing up unconventionally.

Now, even Sam, who had been raised by John Winchester himself, and was therefore very well taught in the fine art of lying, couldn't possibly think of a plausible explanation for having a crush on his stupid jerk of a brother. Not to mention that calling it a “crush” was probably the understatement of the century. So he kept it hidden all his life, and it went ok. Actually, it went great, and it’s not like he didn’t already accept that there was no way out of his feelings (and believe me when I say he tried. Oh, how Sam Winchester tried running away from loving his big brother), but he learned to control it just fine.

Obviously, fate didn’t give a damn if Sam had somehow learned to live with it, because as much as he thought that he was in control, he actually really wasn’t. That’s why everything happened the way it did, even if Sam himself didn’t do anything to make it happen.

 

 *** 

 

Sam woke up that morning far earlier than he needed, the faint pain of the bullet hole now healed on his stomach not strong enough for being the cause of it, but the smell of bacon coming from his open door, strong enough to make his stomach grumble, sure was.

He followed the smell to the kitchen and found Dean in Dead Man's robe and slippers, stacking a plate with bacon strips and humming some old tune (a David Hasselhoff one, of all things. Go figure) contentedly.

"Morning."

"Hiya Sammy. Made you pancakes, it's in the microwave."

"How long are you awake?" Sam asked while retrieving the pancakes. His stomach made another loud grumble as the smell of chocolate chips found his nose. He flopped down on the chair just in time to get the big mug of coffee his big brother put in front of him.

"Couple of hours."

"Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, just wanted to sort some things out before we head to the store."

Sam took a moment to watch his brother finish laying everything on the table and flop down in the chair right in front of him. They were in good terms, Sam knew that much. Still, he couldn't help being a little nervous after everything that had happened last year. He could still feel the ghost of the Mark of Cain in Dean's arm, even knowing he was probably just a little too much on the side of being paranoiac now. Sometimes he still dreamed about his brother's black eyes looking at him merciless, and he knew for a fact that if Castiel hadn't been there when everything happened, he wouldn't have been able to hurt Dean, and he would probably be dead now.

"Your over thinking is making me sleepy." Dean's voice snapped him out of the bad memories and Sam just now realized he was gripping his fork as if it would run away. He squirmed in his seat and hid his face behind the hair falling on his forehead.

"Sorry."

"What's going on, Sammy?"

"Nothing, I was just... Thinking."

Dean looked at him like he was reading his mind, and for a moment Sam felt a little uncomfortable. Sometimes looking Dean in the eyes seemed like the ultimate mistake, as if Dean had a superpower he never acknowledged and it consisted basically into being able see through Sam’s head.

"Everything's gonna be fine, man. You're okay, I'm fine. We're fine." Sometimes Sam also thought Dean’s superpower was to always know what to say to make everything better. He never felt more grateful.

 

***

 

Dean parked Baby in the last visible spot under the covered part of the parking lot after 15 minutes going round and round like a freaking carrousel. At the time they climbed out of the car, they were practically freezing and Dean's vocabulary had dropped to basically grunts and swear words Sam didn't even know existed (and that was saying a lot about a boy who had practically been raised by Bobby Singer).

Now, to say that the place was crowded was probably a freaking euphemism. They needed to get everything done before noon, and after the precious minutes wasted trying to park Dean's car away from the ever-falling rain, they decided separate ways was the best way to go. Their shopping list was divided in half and five minutes later, Sam found himself wandering through the male clothing session in the nearest department store.

He needed a new pair of hunting jeans and he was already heading to one of the shelves when someone stopped him with a gentle touch right under his right shoulder. Sam looked around and his eyes met with the eyes of a tiny girl wearing the store's uniform.

"Hi, sir! What can I do for you today?" she smiled up at Sam.

“Oh, hi.” He smiled back, his eyebrows drawing together just a little. Having a person offering help wasn’t exactly common there. “I was just, y'know, looking for some new jeans. I think this isn't really necess-“

The girl cut him. "Sorry, I just couldn't help noticing, you seem a little lost."

"Yeah, well-"

"Can I make a suggestion?"

 _No, thank you_ , he thought. In reality, he said something like "Well, I guess...", but she interrupted him once more.

"Try these." She said while shoving a pair of dark blue jeans in his hands. That was some determined girl, he decided.

Under her scrutiny, Sam had no choice but to accept the pair of pants and move to the fitting rooms, partly because he didn't want to be rude, but mostly because he really needed a new pair of jeans anyway, and those looked like it fitted.

He put on the jeans and, yeah, it fitted _just right_. A little tighter than he would normally choose, but not enough to look weird, actually. He wasn't paying any attention to them, though.

He looked ay himself in the big mirror, and took a moment to think about how that girl outside the fitting room, waiting innocently to see if her suggestion fitted the costumer, would look like if she could see inside his head. He imagined her smile fading, a look of disgust appearing instead, the way she would probably call him a freak...

There wasn’t a day when Sam didn’t think about his feelings towards Dean. He knew it wasn’t something he could control, and he didn’t feel ashamed of it anymore, but he sometimes couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like, how people would look at him if they knew.

There was a time in his life Sam himself really started to believe he was a freak, but for entirely different reasons. He managed to convince himself that what happened wasn't his fault a while ago now, but sometimes he still thought about how everything bad that had happened to them was because of him, because he had demon blood inside himself. Dean had gone to hell because of that, Dad had died because of that, Sam had also gone to hell because of that, and everything fucking think that followed was because of that… Even though those things seemed like a lifetime ago (which, being through actual Hell and all, was more than compelling, actually), it still hurt like a son of a bitch.

Now, however, he looked at himself and struggled to feel like a monster.

He tried to feel wrong about wanting Dean, he tried to feel wrong about loving him, but all he could see when he looked in the mirror was his reflection. Nothing more, nothing behind it. For the first time, he felt like Sam, _just Sam_ , no pressures attached. He didn't need to prove himself right, he didn't need to struggle to feel like he was doing the right thing, even when it seemed like the biggest mistake. He just couldn't bring himself to think about his feelings like a bad thing anymore.

For that, Sam felt a little guilty, but not enough. He knew it looked twisted, he knew people like the girl outside (ordinary people, not _normal_. He already WAS normal, he believed that now) would think he was disgusting, sick, but he decided he didn't care about what others would think of him anymore.

It was Dean Sam worried about. 

He knew better than to act on his feelings, though, and as long as he didn't, everything was going to be just fine.

 

*

Dean was waiting for him for a while already when he got to the spot they chose to meet when they were done with their list.

Sam didn't mention spending a little too much time trying to buy a single pair of jeans when Dean asked _what took him so long, for god's sake_. What he said, instead, was "Freaking lines of people shopping, man", which wasn't exactly a lie since he did expend much more time than he normally would while trying to pay for the damn pair of jeans he now started to regret buying in the first place.

"Lines, right." Dean said over a mouthful of onion rings. "Damn, I hate shopping."

Sam didn't _hate_ shopping. Today, though, he couldn't think of something worse.

 

***

  
Sam looked at the pair of pants for a good five minutes before putting them on. Once again, he looked at himself in the mirror, but this time he thought about how they looked much tighter than he remembered. He also thought about asking Dean again to fix his old ones, but he knew there wasn't any fixing for a hole that size.

He sighed, then, and just went with it.

Once he stepped in the Men of Letters' operations room, though, Sam wished he had begged for his brother to _pretty please_ try again to fix his old jeans. He couldn't decipher by the look on Dean's face if he thought it was funny or amusing, but either one made Sam blush and duck his head to try and hide himself behind his hair.

"What _are_ you wearing?" Dean snorted, putting his beer down.

"New jeans?" Sam tried.

"You sure you got the right number?"

"Uh, I guess, yeah."

Dean eyed him again from feet to waist. "Isn't it a little bit... _Tight_?"

"There was this girl in the store, she made me buy it. I didn't really pay attention to it until now. It looks stupid, I should have seen it before."

Dean shook his head. "Nah, you're good."

"I am?"

"Yeah, I mean, it looks good. On you."

"Thanks, I guess."

"Yeah."

 _Yeah_. Sam couldn't deny, he felt worth a million bucks right now, that's for sure. He might as well go back to that store sometime just to kiss that girl. On the mouth.

He shook the hair out of his face, unable to completely hide the little smile tugging at the corner of his lips, but managed to contain his joy a little when he took a better look at the papers displayed at the table in front of his brother.

"So, what's going on here?"

"Found us a case."

A few years ago, Sam would have cringed at that, uncomfortable with the thought of being a hunter, uncomfortable with the thought of killing things and the prospect of getting hurt, or worse, _Dean_ getting hurt, but that was when he still had this stupid idea to try to be "normal". Now, even though he was still uncomfortable with the thought of Dean getting hurt (obviously. He didn't think he would ever be comfortable with that, he cared about that even when his brother was a full on demon, for fuck's sake), he didn't care about trying to be "normal" anymore. 

Now, he dared to think about hunting like a good thing. Hunting was his life, always had been, and he wasn't interested in changing that any time soon. Also, going on a hunt meant spending hours in the car with his brother, listening to whatever Dean was in the mood to, talking shit about random things most part of the time spent on the road. Mostly, though, they would just argue about the movies they watched recently (which they did surprisingly often now that they had a place to stay rather than crappy motels around the country) or any other thing for that matter. Dean would give him shit about the music he liked, but most often than never, Sam would see him mumbling the words of a Sixx:A.M. song he would make him listen a hundred times after winning the right to drive Baby because Dean was just too tired to keep himself up at it.

So, when Dean said he had found them a case, Sam actually smiled and said "Really? What case?"

"You're not gonna like it."

For Dean to say something like that, it could only mean one thing, but Sam refused to go that road before asking "Why?"

"Clowns. I don’t know, possibly."

"Fuck no."

"No, listen, there's this farm in Black Falls, Iowa…”

"Black Falls, Iowa is pretty much only a big farm, Dean."

"No shit, Sherlock. Like I was saying, there's this farm that transforms itself onto a Scary Themed Park on Halloween. It's like Horror Disneyland or some shit."

"And people go there to _get scared_?"

"I know, right? People are weird, man. The thing is, the _Horror Disneyland_ or whatever opens for only a week before Halloween every year, and it’s been going for the last 10 years. It seems like there's been incidents there once a year, and sometimes people get killed. The causes are usually heart attack, but word also say they get "scared to death". Literally. Now, if it were any other time of the year, I would probably blame the sons of bitches who don't know what they're doing with their business, but it could be something."

"Or it couldn't..." 

"Yeah, it could be nothing, but I think it's worth the shot. We're not getting any closer to killing Amara if we stay here doing nothing. I heard they have these little cabin outside the Park, for people who want to live the full experience or some shit, I guess we could stay there for a couple of days and see what it looks like."

"Yeah, I don't know, man."

"Listen, Sammy, I hate to make you deal with people dressed as evil clowns and all-"

"No, you don't!"

"You're right, I don't. You have to admit it, dude, it's a little funny."

"Yeah, well, let's see if you find that funny the next time we have to take a fly somewhere."

"Not fair, Sammy."

"You started it."

"Yeah, right. Anyway, we should really check it out, man."

"Yeah, okay, let's do it."


	2. Cottage. Dude, isn’t that a cheese?

A few hours later, Baby was purring contentedly on the road, under the sunlight and with the first chords of Dude Looks Like a Lady blaring from the speakers.

The breeze up in Iowa was a little cooler than Kansas, but it seemed like the winter wasn't coming that strong this year. Sam was wearing his jacket, though, and Dean, well, he couldn't remember a time when Dean wasn't wearing one hundred layers of clothes, anyway.

He guessed this thing about wearing more than one layer of clothes had started when Dad got hurt on a hunt someday when Sam was no more than five. He remembered their Dad arriving at Bobby's covered in blood, with a gash the size of his head that he got from a werewolf in the soft part of his belly. It wasn't a very profound wound, and it would totally had been avoided if he were wearing just another layer of clothing beside the flannel and his leather jacket. After that, Dad started wearing two other shirts and Dean, trying to be just like him, started wearing two more layers other than the old Batman shirt he never took off when he was 10. Sam didn't want to be like Dad, never did, but he looked up to Dean like he was his personal superhero, and so he did the same.

Sam chose that moment to look at his left, in time to see his brother drumming his fingers in the steering wheel and sing along as Steven Tyler blared his lungs out about how falling in love was hard on his knees. 

Dean didn't use three layers of clothes to be like Dad anymore, but some things never change. Sam didn't use three layers anymore at all, mostly because it made him claustrophobic, but he still thought about Dean like he was his personal superhero. He guessed this would never change, no matter how their lives moved forward and regardless of how old they got.

 

***

The farm seemed huge, but the _park area_ wasn't that big. On daylight, though, it didn't seem even remotely scary. In fact, it was actually quite beautiful, and Sam was finding a lot of trouble trying to imagine the scenario Dean had described after seeing pictures of the park on the farm's website.

They parked on parking lot outside and then headed to the big gate at the entrance of the Themed Park. It consisted in just a couple of attractions, some stalls here and there (that probably sell food or something), a little carrousel, a not so impressive old roller coaster and a small Ferris Wheel. Everything was brightly colored, though, except for the roller coaster, that actually seemed a little rusty. 

There was a little cabin on their right, and Dean headed straight to the guy behind the front desk. While he handled their admission, Sam wandered by the entrance of the park. It really was beautiful. From there, he could see bits of the farm behind the park, including what seemed to be a big pumpkin patch.

Sam looked back at his brother and let himself wonder about how much Dean had changed the last few years. He was leaning against the counter, bowed legs sprawled in a relaxed way while talking to the clerk, and probably smiling that one smile Sam knew was pure manners and didn't make the skin around his eyes crinkle. 

The crinkles around Dean's eyes had deepened scary fast while he was under the effects of the Mark of Cain, and Sam knew he shouldn't be happy about it, but he couldn't help thinking about how much more attractive his brother looked now. If even that was possible. He still had that bright smile that sometimes made Sam blush like a little girl, of course, but he hadn't seen it in a long time, which made him sad. Sam knew it was his fault, he had released Amara and now his brother was bounded to her, whatever that meant. Even now, far away from everything, in a freaking farm less than a week before Halloween, he knew what Dean was thinking, and knew why his smile didn't reach his eyes. It WAS Sam fault, he wasn't denying it, but he still didn't regret it and would do everything all over again if he had the chance.

Sam stopped staring at his brother's back in time to pretend he wasn't looking when Dean returned from the front desk with their keys.

" _Cottage_. It's a freaking cottage, Sammy, can you believe it?" He said laughing incredulously, throwing the keys at Sam and walking fast towards the car. 

Sam looked at the keys on his palm and went to get his duffle from the car, but Dean met him halfway with both bags. Shoving the smaller one in Sam's chest, he made one more grumpy comment about the ////clerk//// and the " _freaking_ _cottage_ " and turned to the opposite direction.

Sam followed his brother down a path around the outside of the park. The walk to the place where they were staying was silent, but Sam enjoyed it anyway. It was good to just follow his big brother around and let him lead the way, it reminded him of when they were young and Dean leaded Sam through the insane training routines their father would make them follow to become good hunters.

Dean's voice brought him back to the present suddenly: "Have you seen that thing? It must be at least 100 feet!"

It took Sam a second to realize Dean was talking about the rusty Ferris wheel. "Uh, yeah, I guess."

"I can't believe people actually pay to ride that thing."

"Well, it's fun." Sam said, distracting himself at the sight of the so-called cottage.

The little wooden house was actually bigger than he thought it would be, and it seemed like someone from the staff had spent a couple of hours trying to make it look spooky with a bunch of Halloween decorations, with little success, though. Sam was still having a hard time imagining how that place could be a _Scary Farm_.

Dean chuckled while snatching the keys from Sam's hand and opening the door. "I can't remember going to a park like this before."

"I don't think you went. I went with Jess, when I was in Stanford."

Dean didn't answer, and Sam bit his tongue when he realized what he said. It still hit Dean when they talked about the time Sam had walked away from them. Sam knew it was because he felt rejected at the time, and even though he had already said Dean had nothing to do with the reason he left, Dean still felt hurt. At this point, though, there was nothing he could do about it, so he usually just focused really hard not to talk about it. 

Except when he wasn't very focused, like right now.

Sam thought about mumbling an apology, mostly because Dean usually would get all worked up for hours when things like that happened, but also because he hated that his brother still felt hurt about something he did in the past, but when he laid his eyes on the inside of the little cabin, his thoughts just slipped his mind.

"What the hell is this?" He said instead.

The cottage consisted in a big bedroom, with a door that probably led to a bathroom, a TV and a couch, and a ginormous King size bed right in the center.

"Huh." Said Dean. He was scratching the back of his neck and looking at the ground, which, in Sam's book, never meant anything good.

"Dean?"

"The guy on the entrance may have said something about shared cottages..."

"And what exactly did he say?"

"There's two types, the ones for groups, which is bigger and have more beds, and this one. I figured we could use a little more privacy, y'know?"

"Yeah?"

"For the case, I mean."

"'Course."

"So, huh, I'll let you set yourself and I'll just- I'll be outside."

Dean stumbled out of the room and closed the door carefully behind him. Sam stayed inside, with his duffle still hanging on his shoulder, and mixed feelings about what had just happened.

Once again, as he watched the closed door, he blamed himself for talking about Stanford and making his brother uncomfortable.

Why did he always mess everything up?

 

***

  
Dean returned to the room a couple of hours later with the activities program the farm offered and dinner from the barn tuned dining hall.

The program had scheduled a lot of dumb day activities Dean would probably want to avoid, like trail, walking around the lake and pumpkin carving. At night, the activities were restricted to the fire place, and on the October 31st they were going to have a huge party and people were supposed to be wearing costumes.

It all seemed like a big party altogether, and it all looked a bit silly, actually.

"So, what exactly do we know about the case, again?" Sam asked without getting his eyes off the flyer, still thinking about the stupid program. 

Dean still fumbled a little with the plastic bags before answering. "Some missing people on the last 10 years, the only connection is that they were here in time for Halloween. Now, I'm guessing it's a ritual."

 "Well, it could be. It would probably explain all the attention... This place is a little odd, don’t you think?"

"What do you mean?"

 Sam looked back at the flyer. "I mean, a fucking Honeymoon Cottage in a farm, with couple activities..." He then waved it in the air to make his point.

Dean's face scrunched into a frown. "Oh!" He fidgeted a little in his seat, and said: "You're right, staying here wasn't a very good idea, we should have stayed somewhere else-"

"Wait, what?"

"You're saying that the place is weird because is meant to coupled people. You’re right, we shouldn't be here and-"

"No, that's not what I'm saying. I said the place is odd, not weird. What I'm trying to say is that it looks like someone saw an opportunity to make money out of enthusiasts, but don't know exactly how to run the business. That's why the programs are completely inappropriate for Halloween."

"Well, yeah."

"So ritual, right? It makes sense. Person doesn't know how to make money on his own, starts a ritual to turn this place into Halloween Disneyland, like you said."

"Yeah, makes sense. The question is: witch or demon?"

"That's what we have to find out."

 

***

 

"Ok, what are we gonna do about the bed?"

Dean scratched the back of his neck while staring intently at the carpet again, Sam had his hands shoved inside his old jeans' pockets, and the bed stared back at them like a threat.

Sam wanted to tell Dean they should share the bed, and not just that bed, but any bed, all of them, for the rest of their lives. In reality, what he said was "I could sleep in the couch."

Both brothers turned their heads to the little couch in front of the TV. 

"Don't be stupid." Dean said with a snort. "Your gigantic ass would never fit there. I'll sleep in the couch, you can keep the bed."

"I'm not letting you sleep in that thing, Dean. You're not twenty anymore."

"Are you saying that I'm old, kiddo?"

"No, I'm saying no one have to sleep in the couch. The bed is big enough for both of us."

"The bed IS big. Big enough for both of us, I don't know."

"We'll see."

They agreed that Sam take the first shower. He entered the small bathroom and dumped his duffle beside the sink before removing his clothes to enter the bathtub. As he sunk into the warm water, he thought about the case and Dean's suddenly urge of moving and getting on the road. It all seemed very odd, especially after he acted so strongly against the idea of working on a random case while they didn't have the slightest clue about Amara. Sam didn't know if that meant Dean was going through something he didn't want him to know, but he surely seemed a little uneasy. 

When Sam entered the room again after his bath, his thoughts only got stronger. Dean was sitting at the edge of the couch and seemed really focused, tapping rapidly on his phone with a concerned look on his face. When he noticed Sam coming through the bathroom door, though, he quickly pocketed his phone and got up, going straight to his duffle.

"Everything alright?" Sam asked, holding his own bag and walking towards the bed, calculating Dean's suspicious behavior.

"Peachy." Dean answered just before closing the bathroom door with a click

  
As Sam watched the closed door that hid Dean, like he did when his brother had left the room earlier, he once again thought how Dean was acting really strange ever since they killed that Werewolf pack in Idaho four weeks ago. When Dean thought Sam had died, he and the victims had left Sam in one of the cabins in the forest. He remembered being choked by Corbin back then, and remembered the intense pain that followed the shot, but somehow he couldn't remember much about everything that had happened. He asked Dean, after they left the hospital, what he had done when he thought Sam was dead, but his brother only said he knew he wasn't. Sam had believed at the time, but now he was starting to feel a little doubtful.

 

***

 

Dean finished his shower a good half an hour later. Sam figured his brother was probably hoping Sam would be asleep by the time he returned to the bedroom, so he could just crawl in the couch and pretend he didn't want to wake him up, and so he chose to sleep in the couch because _it wasn't that bad anyway_. 

So Sam made sure he wasn't falling asleep before Dean returned from his shower. When he did, Sam was waiting in the couch, with a book he had the genius idea to bring from the bunker. The flyer Dean had brought earlier was serving as a marker for the chapter he was reading.

"So, which side do you want?" He said before Dean could open his mouth to try and make him change his mind about sharing the bed. Normally, Dean would always pick the side closest to the door (which was an habit he had since he was four years old, pick the most potentially dangerous bed in order to keep Sammy safe), but that bed was placed facing the door, so either side were just about the same. Sam wanted to be sure to keep his brother in a good mood for the weekend, though, just in case.

Lately, Dean was always a little moody, and honestly, Sam was starting to feel a little pissed as well (what with not being able to solve the whole Darkness situation). So when Dean showed the tiniest hint of a smile when he asked which side he wanted, Sam was caught with so much surprise he almost missed Dean's response.

"The right one, I guess."

Sam slowly closed the book, making sure the flyer was in its place before walking to the opposite side. He laid on the bed and covered himself with the large comforters, but didn't dare look at his brother's face. A moment later, though, Sam felt the bed dip at his side and listened to Dean's heavy breathing for a second before turning his head to look at his face.

Dean was looking straight at the ceiling and for a moment Sam lost himself in his brother's profile, amazed by the freckles' constellation splattered on his skin.

Stupid crush.

He felt his heart beating lose control for a bit, and then Dean looked back at him. 

The trace of smile was gone, replaced by a little frown that made Dean's light eyebrows crease a little in the middle of his face. Sam’s heart threatened to skip a beat, he was just now realizing that that was a REALLY stupid idea, but then Dean's expression lightened and suddenly it was a mostly blank stare.

"Night, Sammy" was all he said before turning the lights off.


	3. Treasure hunt (go figure).

Sharing a bed with your big brother when you're thirty is nothing like sharing a bed with your big brother when you're four. For starters, fitting in the mattress was a challenge (fitting in a bed is always a little challenging for someone Sam's height, obviously). But fitting on the bed while trying not to touch your brother because you're both now grown ass men and it would be probably a little weird for you to spoon him was a damn nightmare.

Especially when you also happen to be a little in love with said big brother.

Especially because you kind of _want_ to spoon him.

Dean wasn't a very heavy sleeper. He also wasn't a very light sleeper, though. Sam had to shake him three or more times in the middle of the night to force him to stop trying to pull the entire comforter to his side of the bed.

Halfway through the fourth or so shake, Dean snapped. "Just get a little closer already and let me sleep, damn it!"

Sam did. And oh boy, if that wasn't the death of him.

He scrunched a little closer to his brother. Dean rolled to the side to make room for him, and Sam sprawled himself, feeling immediately a hundred times more comfortable when the warmth from Dean's body hugged him. He tried not to let out a tiny contented sight and turned his face to look at his brother again. "Thank you."

"That’s okay." Dean's voice sounded sleepy, but he didn't seem to be really mad at Sam for waking him up, which was a huge plus. "You should have just gotten a little closer if I started pulling the comforters. No need to wake me up a hundred times in the middle of the night."

Sam stayed quiet for a moment, trying not to overthink what just happened. He thought Dean was sleeping again when he whispered his little _sorry_ against his pillow.

"For what?" Dean's voice came with a whisper too.

"Waking you up." Sam explained with his voice muffled.

"That's ok." Dean repeated, shifting and getting a little closer when he tried to adjust the comforter to finally fit both of them comfortably. "Now stop being a little bitch and go back to sleep already."

Once again, Sam stayed silent for a second. Then, when he felt himself falling back into sleep, murmured "Goodnight, Dean."

The response came immediately, as always: "Goodnight, Sammy."

 

***

 

When Sam woke up the next day, the bed was empty. Dean was probably somewhere grabbing them some breakfast, so Sam didn’t worry too much. He got up, took a brief shower and slipped on his new jeans, letting his wet hair slicked away from his face.

When he stepped inside the bedroom again, Dean was sitting on the couch with a cup of coffee and a box of donuts. His entire face was covered with powdered sugar.

Sam rolled his eyes at his brother's childish behavior. "Morning."

"Good morning, sunshine." Dean answered with a big white smile. Something shifted inside Sam's chest (probably his whole heart), and he returned the smile, feeling his ears warm up with self-consciousness.

He ran his fingers through his dump hair, now feeling a little silly for combing it that way. Apparently, Dean had other ideas, though. He eyed Sam with an arched brow and tried to wipe a little of the sugar from his upper lip before saying "Look at your face! Now that is not hidden under that mush you call hair, I gotta say Sammy, you actually look pretty decent."

If it was possible, Sam's ears got even hotter and he tried to sound smug, but actually sounded a little broken when he said "You love my hair, admit it, Dean."

Dean wiped the rest of the sugar from his mouth and then said. "You're right. I kind of like your hair. It fits you... Much like these pants you bought the other day."

Sam opened his mouth to answer to that, feeling even more self-conscious now that Dean had mentioned the new jeans, but Dean interrupted him and went direct to business.

"We have to talk with the staff today." He said while grabbing for the flyer Sam had used to mark his book's page the night before. "They're having some sort of treasure hunting on the entire place this afternoon. We should probably check it out and see if we can talk to some of them."

"I thought you said the missing people had gone missing during Halloween night." Sam flopped on the couch at Dean's side, getting a donut from the box and accepting the cup of coffee his brother brought him. "We should probably check if who works on the night shifts are also the ones that works on the daily activities."

“Yeah, well, that's what I’m saying we have to figure out."

 

***

 

They left the room ready to work a couple of hours later. As they walked side by side towards the park, Dean would send little looks to Sam's jeans from time to time and make a funny face. Sam's ears stayed warm under his now dry hair. Dean opened his mouth to say something Sam was already anticipating. He looked like he would burst into laughter at any time and Sam was awfully ready to hear his brother mock him and call him a girl. He decided he didn't give a damn, though. Now that he thought about it, Sam actually thought he looked good in the tighter pants, and he wasn't letting his stupid evil big brother bring him down.

But Dean didn't actually got the chance to say a thing. 

A group of loud teenagers joined them in the path up the grounds of the farm, through the pumpkin patches to the themed park at the entrance. Dean's hypothetical mockery towards his not-so-little brother got lost between songs being shouted at the top of their lungs, laughter and a bunch of colorful hair and clothes.

The teenagers rapidly passed through Sam and Dean and headed towards the park. After them came a considerably smaller group of people and they followed in silence.

When they finally made it to the entrance of the park, the group of people willing to play the treasure hunt was standing around a guy using a hat and holding a clipboard. The guy explained the rules to the hunt and the group dispersed almost immediately, everyone apparently very eager to win. As the guy said, the pair that could find most treasures would receive " _the honor to have an awesome dinner in the main house_ ".

Sam and Dean had agreed that they would take turns asking questions about the case, trying not to look so obviously out of place, so when Dean gave him a little nod, he started to act like he was playing the treasure hunt.

He observed as Dean walked to the guy in the hat and tried not to think of how much those bowlegs meant to him. He remembered being thirteen, hiding under the covers in the motel room Dad would have made them stay for the week, waiting for his big brother to come home after spending the night with the prettiest girl in the school (it was always the prettiest one). Sometimes, Sam would wait all night without being able to so much as close his eyes, peeking through a gap on his comforters, waiting to grab a glimpse of bowlegs walking straight to the shower. Then Dean would put on his old stained black t-shirt and lay in the shared bed with his head towards Sam's feet, the only way they could feet together now that Dean's shoulders were almost as broader as Dad's. And only then Sam would close his eyes, feelings Dean's knees on the side of his ribs, and hearing his breath as he would fall asleep.

At the time, seeing Dean walking back into the room every night meant a world of safety to Sam. He stopped putting Dad at the center of his life when Dean told him about the monsters that go bump in the night, but Dean was always the center of his world. Now, looking at him talking casually with the staff, Sam thought about the amulet he gave Dean that Christmas, and how Dean went from being the center of his world to literally being his entire world. He had friends, obviously, Cas, Jody and the girls (and even Crowley and Rowena, which he hated with a passion but still considered a little)... He would let them all burn if it meant he had to choose between them and Dean. He knew it wasn't a very good thought to be having, but it was the truth, and he still didn't regret a thing. He once told Dean he wouldn't try to bring him back if he died, and Dean tried to kill him when he was a demon, but when he had to choose between having a girl and the Apple pie life he always wanted, and keep on hunting with his brother, he still chose Dean. He would always choose Dean.

*

Turns out the staff member didn't have much to say about the previous cases, as he was new at the job. Dean came back with his hands shoved inside his pockets and looking straight at Sam's boots.

"We should, huh, play it along, maybe?"

It took Sam a minute to realize Dean wanted to play in the little treasure hunt they got going on.

He smiled. "That would be fun."

Growing up in a family that practically lived in a car didn't actually left much space for celebrations. Sam never had a birthday party, although he remembered eight years old Dean saying he wasn't very hungry and filling Sam's bowl with the remaining cereal because it was his birthday. At the time, Sam just thought Dean was a very odd, not so hungry big brother. Now, Sam knew it wasn't possible for a child to NOT be hungry when all they had to eat for a week when Dad was out hunting was half a box of cereal. 

Their childhood were not easy. 

Sam never had an Easter Egg Hunting, either, but he figured hunting little treasures with his big brother in a big farm with a bunch of teenagers laughing and screaming, in full October, was pretty much the same thing. He wasn't very happy to admit how much he liked it, though.

Sam thought 40 years old Dean's voice sounded just like it would if they were still children and playing in an Easter Egg Hunting. "Hey, Sammy, found 'nother one!"

At the end of the morning, both had they arms full of little colorful bags, laughing in a way they didn't since that LARP game four years ago, back when Charlie was still alive. 

The group regathered around the hat guy at midday for the counting of the winner. It didn't took Sam by surprise when they made more points than everyone, but he sure wasn't expecting the looks he got from the group of teenagers. Not that he felt intimidated by them, but he didn't get what was the big deal until the hat guy clapped Dean in the back and said something like "Congratulations, you just hit jackpot".

 

***

 

They had lunch with the rest of the guests in a big table disposed near the pumpkin patch for those who had joined the treasure hunt, instead of in the dining hall with the rest of the guests. Dean had his mouth filled with mashed potatoes, and was in a heated argument with a kid about the differences between Star Trek and Star Wars. The midday sun hitting his eyelashes made them look like pure gold strings, and for a moment, Sam thought he would never see something more beautiful than his big brother. In a way, he always knew Dean had already ruined him for anyone else, but moments like that made Sam rethink his entire life around his brother. 

More than once, he had chosen to go out with a girl with mousy hair and green eyes. More than once he thought about dating a guy with broad shoulders and a military haircut.

His entire life always resumed around Dean, Dean, Dean.

The two girls sitting beside him took Sam out of his thoughts.

"Have you seen his _eyes_?" The redhead one was saying. "I think I've never seen something so _green_ before."

"Yeah, but what about the freckles?" The other one replied, giggling. 

Sam followed their line of vision and his eyes met his brother's midway. Dean smiled a little, the sunlight making his cheeks look a little pink, and Sam's heart skipped a beat. He smiled back, feeling so in love he could just join the two girls and talk about Dean all day.

It was pathetic, he knew it since the first time he realized he had a crush on his big brother. It was also true, and there was nothing he could do about it too.

 


	4. Kinky much?

They spent the evening wandering around the farm, gathering information amongst the staff, about the previous cases and historical information about the building. Two things were clear by the end of the day: they were most likely than not dealing with a vengeful spirit and the salt and burn was going to be a bitch.

"We have to figure out a way to do it without raising any suspicions." Dean was saying while combing his hair in a very calculated motion, in a way that would look like he didn't spent the last 10 minutes trying to make it look naturally messy. He'd been doing that since he was 13 and started dating pretty girls, and Sam always made fun of him for it. Today, though, he just felt a wave of feelings wash over his chest, knowing Dean was taking so much time getting ready to have dinner with _him_.

"Yeah." Sam heard himself saying, not really paying much attention to what Dean was saying, but feeling very self-conscious now. He tried to comb his hair with his fingers, looking at the frontal camera in his phone, wishing he had spent a little more time in front of the mirror.

Dean stepped out of the bathroom looking like a model, wearing that dark red jacket he used when he tried to kill Sam two years ago. Today, it looked like he was trying to kill Sam with another kind of death. "You ready?" 

"Y-yeah."

He followed his brother towards the main house like he did the day before to the cottage. 

The house wasn't really a house. In fact, calling it 'house' was probably the understatement of the century. Suddenly, all the competition made totally sense. It was a mansion, a freaking mansion hiding behind a row of pine trees, with white walls and magnificent columns on the front side, and a huge garden with what seemed to be a maze. Sam's jaw must have dropped a little while Dean talked to a man who leaded them through the outside of the maze, directly to the main doors.

They were welcomed inside by a pretty woman wearing a suit, that introduced herself as one of the owners of the place, and also leaded them, now through the house.

*

The menu was simple: steak, mushed potatoes and salad. Dean looked like he was having a taste of his own heaven (which was saying a lot, considering he already had had a taste of his actual heaven).

Sam looked at his brother while munching on his salad, and took a little time appreciating the hums he made, enjoying the food. Everything were impossibly good, Dean looked prettier than ever (but then again, when does he not?). Sam could feel his heart grow at least three times bigger at the sight of Dean's smile.

At the time of desert (pumpkin pie, of course), the cheesy waiter wearing a tux that was serving them all night said something about "letting them have a little privacy", lay the wine bottle on the table and left.

"Wine?" Dean asked before even touching the slice of pie on his plate, looking all serious all of a sudden.

"Yeah, thank you."

It was a rater expensive wine, Sam could say from the taste. Years of cheap wine bought with Dean's fake ID, drinking outside their motel room while Dad was passed out inside had taught Sam a thing or two about taste. At fifteen, cheap wine tasted like the most awesome drink ever, but Sam knew it was only because his big brother had bought it for them to drink together, and that made everything  hundred times better. At the time, he wasn't thinking about leaving to college yet, and the only problem they had was the werewolf Dad was tracking (when he wasn't passed out with tiredness, anyway).

They drank the expensive wine and talked about the mansion and the farm and the treasure hunt from earlier. At the end of their slices of pie, the wine was pretty much gone, and they were both giggling and arguing about music.

"I know you like Sixx:A.M., Dean, stop trying to hide it, dude!"

"Alright, ok, I admit that they don't suck _that_ much."

"Thank you! Now you just need to admit you like some Nickelback songs too."

"No way, dude! Liking Nickelback is like liking that stupid emo shit kids listen to nowadays."

Sam just laughed, knowing for a fact Dean had no idea what kids actually liked nowadays. Ten years ago? Sure. Now, not even Sam knew exactly what was going on.

The waiter chose that moment to return to the dining room, asking if they needed anything else. Even a little dizzy, Sam recognized that as their cue, and declared it was time to leave.

This time, Dean didn't lead. They walked side by side through the garden, in a comfortable silence. Sam couldn't stop smiling to himself, and from time to time Dean would look at him with a slightly amused grin.

"What are you smiling at?" He asked, bumping at Sam's shoulder with his own. As much as he liked to call Sam a Sasquatch, there wasn't that much of a difference between their heights, and they both were very well built (perks of the job). Sometimes, though, Dean had this weird power over Sam that made him feel all scrawny and impossibly small. But then again, Dean had always been a much more solid figure, anyway, no matter how much Sam spent time working out his muscles or how much taller he got when he got his growth spur. He guessed sometimes big brothers were just... Bigger.

"'M not," he answered, looking at the opposite direction. Dean just enlaced his arm around his neck and playfully messed with his hair. "Oh my god, could you not?"

"No, I couldn't." Dean laughed, pulling Sam's head completely under his armpit and shoving his fingers in Sam's hair.

Sam tried to say, "I hate you", but his mouth was muffled on the side of Dean's belly, strong smell of soap and clean clothes and brother surrounding his face.

Dean just laughed again, releasing the hold and clasping a hand lightly on Sam's back. "Yeah, right, I hate you too, little brother. But guess what? I know you love me, so you can stop pretending now."

Sam struggled with the urge to give him the finger, taking his time to put his hair back into place. When he finished, Dean was already crossing the pine trees towards the cottage, still laughing.

"Oh yeah, you better run!"

 

 


	5. Feelings. Why the hell do we have those?

"Sam? Are you sleeping already?"

"No, Dean, not yet"

"Do you, huh, wanna talk about something?"

"About what?"

"I don't know, anything. I can't sleep."

"Alright. Do you wanna talk about the case?"

"Hm, no, not about _that_. What about... Huh..."

"Dean. It's ok, what is it?"

"I just wanna talk about... You, I guess."

"You want to talk about _me_? What about me?"

"I want you to tell me about college. And Jess. And... Amelia"

"Dean, I don't think that’s a good idea…"

"It's ok, I wanna hear. I swear."

"Alright, hm, what do you wanna know, then?"

"Did you love her? Like, _really_ love her, like you loved Jess?"

Sam suck a big breath. The conversation had gone from weird to angst in zero point five seconds. Trust Dean to make everything ten times harder for Sam every single time.

Of course Sam wasn't expecting Dean to talk about that. The fact that he started with the hardest of the questions didn't help much either.

After a few seconds, though (that probably felt more like hours, actually), he started as calmly as he could manage: "I did love her. It was the first time, in years, that I thought I could really _get out_. When I was with Jess, I always had that thought in the back of mind, that said I was betraying my family, that Dad could have needed me, and I was constantly worried about you... but when I met Amelia..."

Dean interrupted him, "I know. You weren't worried about me anymore."

"No, that's not it. I thought you were dead, Dean."

His reply sounded really small in the dark: "I wasn't."

"Dean..."

"It's fine. I'm tired, I'm just gonna sleep now, ok?"

 

***

 

Sam woke up early the other day. Not that he’d had too much sleep the night before, to begin with, so he managed to be up and at it at the crack of dawn.

Dean’s words still ringed in his head like he’d just said them. Now that he thought about it, though, it really shouldn’t have been much of a surprise for him that Dean still felt that way about the time Sam stayed with Amelia. It really had been terrible, and he could just imagine what Dean must have felt when he realized his own brother - the only certainty in his life - had just picked a girl over him. Again, if you counted that one time with Ruby, but Sam wasn’t counting _that_. Sam thought about how he would feel if their roles switched and Dean had just left him god-knows-where and went away with some random chick. It sucked just to think about it, to be honest, but deep down he knew Dean would never do something like this. Not like Sam did. Dean just wasn’t like that.

Thinking about how Dean would never let him go made Sam think about the things he’d said to his brother when he found out the whole Gadreel deal. He could still picture, clear as day, the moment when he said he didn’t want to be brothers anymore and the way Dean had accepted his words and walked away.

Thinking about those things always made something twist in Sam’s chest.

As he walked back to the cabin ( _cottage_ , whatever) with their breakfast, Sam managed to blink away a flow of tears that tried to make a mess out of his eyes. It was stupid, he knew, crying about something he couldn’t take back anymore. Especially for a grown ass man like him. Especially not if that something had been a conscious decision he’d made.

Sometimes Sam could surprise even himself when he thought about how much of an idiot he was, especially when it came down to anything related to his brother.

When he walked back inside the room, Dean was fumbling with the loops of his belt, boots already on, ready to take on the day. Sam tried not to run to him and demand a stupid hug to make sure they were good (not like he really needed the reassurance of his big brother… except that he kind of needed, yeah), placing the bag of bagels on the table instead.

“Brought us breakfast” he said then, ducking his head to hide his face behind his bangs. And yes, he was perfectly aware of looking like a teenage girl when doing that, thank you very much, but sometimes facing Dean was just too much to handle.

Dean said nothing, but approached the bag and snatched one of the cream cheese filled bagel, fitting it almost completely inside his mouth. Sam gulped and tried to no stare as Dean’s jaw worked, the sound of teeth-clashing making a shiver run up his spine.

“I thought we could focus more on the staff today,” Dean handed him the flyer Sam had used on his book the first day. “Looks like it’s going to demand all of them for today’s activity.”

Sam looked down at the flyer, locating the activity right away; it was one of the highlights: _pumpkin carving_.


	6. A little bit of fighting never hurt nobody.

You can't really blame a man for getting excited about something so trivial as cutting a face into a vegetable ( _fruit, technically_ , the know-it-all inside Sam pointed out) and sticking a candle inside of it just to see it glow... not when said man never really had the opportunity to do so when growing up.

So when they left for the pumpkin patch that morning, Sam could barely refrain the grin on his face, and Dean walked beside him with his hands stuffed in his pockets, obviously trying not to look too amused.

Now, Sam knew he was supposed to get his head in the game, people were going to die in this place of he didn't, but for a moment he allowed himself to be a little egoistic. He flopped down on the floor next to a family already digging inside a big pumpkin and grabbed one of the knives the farm provided especially for that purpose, while Dean rolled one of the pumpkins towards him, the guy holding a clipboard pointing him how to handle it.

Sam looked at Dean from his spot on the ground as soon as he placed the pumpkin gently near of Sam's knees. He felt like a six year old - puppy dog eyes full on - asking for his parents to let him play with the other kids.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Fine, you work at it and I'll talk to everybody, see what I can discover."

Sam watched wide eyed as Dean turned on his heels and went back to talk to clipboard guy again. Sure, he did want to just sit there and carve the poor thing, but he never thought Dean would just be so _cool_ about it. He had to hold a sudden wave of affection for his big brother, and he also held the handle of that excuse of a knife strong enough to almost break in his trying not to get up and demand a hug again (that was starting to feel a little pathetic, honestly).

Sam looked back at the pumpkin Dean had placed next to his right knee and a big smile sprayed on his face at the sight of it. He then put the knife aside and picked his own knife from his boots, digging on the pumpkin just like the family beside him did.

That was easily starting to feel like the best day of his life.

  
*  
  
Of course, if Sam had know at the time that those words were cursed, he never would have thought them in the first place. Now there Sam was, sitting alone in a big ass rock on the shore of the lake, cold October wind messing up his hair, contemplating how much of an idiot he was for thinking that was going to be a good day.

Turns out pumpkin carving wasn't as easy as people usually made it look like in movies, go figure. It actually kind of sucked, to be honest. Within an hour, Sam's fingers were already freezing around the handle of his knife and he wasn't even ready to start cutting on the face of the thing. So there's that.

The fact that Dean had vanished from his view the entire morning didn't really help with his mood either. He was supposed to be interviewing people around them, trying to collect more data for the case, but he was probably somewhere _with one of those pretty girls wearing cute boots and beanies_ , Sam thought with disgust.

He was halfway done with the hideous smile of his pumpkin when he pretty much got fed up with all of that. The family sitting beside him actually flinched a little when he stood, his boots stomping in the dirt as he walked past them after hiding his knife back on his shoe.

He walked around the pumpkin patch looking for his brother, but of course he wasn't there. Sam thought about going after him, but he just now realized he actually didn't know shit about the case here, so he had absolutely no clue about where Dean could have been gone to.

Anger started bubbling low in his stomach. You could always trust Dean to vanish at him and come back hours later drunk and smelling like women's perfume.

With that thought, Sam marched back to the freaking cottage, feeling the tips of his ears warm with repressed rage.

Dean was sitting on their bed, elbows on knees, his head hanging low between his shoulders. All the anger faded from Sam's chest, like salt dissolving in hot water.

"Dean, you okay?"

Dean's head snapped up at the sound of Sam's voice and his eyes widened for a fraction of second. For anyone, it would probably mean nothing, but Sam was fluent in Dean, and he immediately picked that up.

"'M fine."

"Yeah, right. Like I don’t know you. What's up, man?"

"Nothing, Sam, just leave it."

Sam breathed hard, closing the door behind him with a soft click. He didn't walk closer to his brother, though, and stayed just inside the door, ready to flee from the room if he needed to. Sam knew not to bother Dean when he was like that, but Dean didn't have the mark anymore, and it wasn't like he were still out of control like he was last year... being cautious didn't hurt, though, and Sam knew that too.

“Is it because of the case?”

Dean scoffed, leaning back on the bed and crossing his arms under his head. “It’s nothing. I just wanna be alone.”

“Dude, _what_? Is it because of the pumpkin thing?”

“No, Sam. I’m just… frustrated, that’s all.”

Sam gasped in surprise. “Frustrated about _what_? I thought we still had some time to solve the case.”

Dean rolled his eyes at the ceiling, “I said it’s not about the case.”

“Then what the hell is going on?”

"Sam, just this once, stop being an annoying little shit and just _let me be_ "

"How can I do that when you just take off like that out of nowhere? I can just assume something is not right, but how am I supposed to know if you don't talk to me?"

"Why are you always trying to make me talk about things, dude? Fuck, why can't you just leave it alone?"

"Because I need to know what you're thinking! I need to know what is going on inside your head, so I can help you!"

"I didn’t even ask for your help! And, trust me, you don't wanna know what is in my head."

"Of course I wanna! I'm your brother, Dean, we live together, for god’s sake!"

"Just leave me alone!"

"You know what? FINE! You want to be alone, then _be alone_!"

And that was the reason Sam was now sitting on that big ass rock, tossing little pieces of pumpkin into the water and watching them slowly float away (and eventually sink).

Sometimes he just didn't understand his fucking idiot of a brother. Just when he thought everything was fine between them, something would happen to make Dean upset, and unlike many years ago, when he could read Dean like a book, it wasn't so easy to do that anymore. Especially after the Mark. 

He thought about going back there, punching Dean right in the face to make him stop acting like a moron and just talk to him! Why couldn't he be straight with things and just tell Sam when he was upset and _why_? _WHY_ couldn't he just act normal for _once_ , dammit? Maybe if things weren't like that, if Dean were just a little bit more open, things could have been much easier for them. Keeping secrets never led them in any good path. 

Then again, Sam was the one keeping that one big fat secret his whole life... Never mind, it wasn't his fault. He shouldn't feel guilty for keeping _that_ secret. 

It wasn't like he could just corner his brother against the wall and shove the truth down his throat. Their relationship had survived a lot of shit; lying, death, demon blood, Hell... But this. This wasn't something their relationship could live through, Sam knew that. That knowledge was engraved in his soul, just like he knew Dean's favorite songs, flavor of ice cream, and the exact color of his eyes.

Sam sighed, tossing the last piece of pumpkin in the water and barely keeping himself from jumping after it. 

"Stop sulking, dude, it's not cute."

Sam honest to God almost fell right off the rock. If not for Dean grabbing him by the back of the jacket, he would just have flopped on the water, just like he was thinking about doing a second before. As Dean pulled him further up on the rock, Sam's heart stammering on his chest with the sudden movement, he thought just how much it would suck to fall on the water with a weather like that - he shivered a little just with the thought.

Dean's voice sounded dangerously close. "Easy, tiger"

Sam scoffed, jumping away from his brother's hands and trying to look as much decent as he could, even though he knew his face was flushing with shame. What kind of stupid person gets scared and almost falls on the water like that in front of person they were just having a fight with? Sam managed not to let out a grunt of discontentment, ducking his head down to hide behind his hair. Again.

Dean sighed, sitting beside him on the rock. "Sorry I scared you."

Sam just shrugged. He'd already said everything he wanted to say back in the cabin, and he wasn't about to start making small talk with his brother now and pretend nothing happened. He was sick of it.

His face must have showed some of his thoughts, though, because Dean sighed again and directed his gaze to the lake instead of Sam, leaning back on the rock and laying with his stupid bowlegs hanging towards the water. Sam exercised every ounce of his auto control not to reach and lay his hands on Dean's thigh, and averted his gaze instead.

"I didn't mean to yell at you" Dean continued then, after what seemed like two centuries of silence between the two of them - but probably couldn't have been more than ten seconds. "It's just that sometimes you’re a pain in my ass."

"Yeah, I noticed, but thank you for telling me anyway."

Dean gasped, and got up on his elbows to look at Sam. "Dude, that's not what I'm saying and you know that!"

Sam huffed, turning to look Dean in the eyes. "What is it that you're saying, then?"

Dean returned his gaze for a moment, and then sighed again. "You know how to get under my skin, Sam." He said, running a hand through his hair and averting his eyes again. "I don't really know how to do things without worrying about you, y'know? Because it's my job-- I know you're tired of hearing that, but it is true."

Sam gulped, thinking about how many times Dean must have stopped from doing something for himself because he had to look after his little brother.

"You don't have to worry about me, Dean, I'm not a kid anymore. I haven’t been for ages now, y’know?"

Dean laughed. "I know, Sammy. Trust me, I know."

"Then why do you keep saying that like it's some sort of excuse for everything? I don't need my big brother baby sitting me, for fuck's sake."

Dean looked away at that, nodding in agreement. If Sam didn't know him better, he would say that the thought seemed to upset Dean. "I know."

"Then stop."

"I will."

"Thank you."

They stayed in silence for what seemed like forever again. Sam waited for Dean to say something else, but he just stayed there, looking at the sky. The wind that earlier had almost yanked all the hair from Sam's scalp, now was just a little breeze (a very freaking ice cold breeze, but a breeze none the way), and Sam tried not to crumble to the urge to curl around his brother and bury his nose on the crook of his neck. 

Of course, Sam was still mad about the fight, but come to think of it, Dean had come to apologize. In his own twisted way where he didn't ever say the word _sorry_ , but apologize anyway. And he had stayed, even though Sam knew Dean was probably itching to take off right now. Besides, he didn't want to fight anymore. That's why he started talking again.

"I didn't mean to yell at you either." He said, pointedly not looking at Dean.

"It's okay."

A few beats passed in silence again.

"Sometimes I can't do anything without thinking about you." Sam's breath caught in his throat, so he didn't say anything, and Dean kept on talking. "It's like I have a limitation, y'know? When it comes to you, there's nothing much I can do without getting all worked up about how it could affect you."

"But it never stopped you from doing something stupid before, right?"

Dean chuckled. "Yeah, well, I was always a little rebel."

"No, you were not!" Sam laughed, turning to look at Dean again and hitting him on the chest. "You were always the good son, you moron!"

"Yeah, you were the rebel one, huh, Sammy? Leaving for college, such a bad boy."

"You can laugh all you want, I'm not getting embarrassed for wanting to have an education."

"You shouldn't." and just like that, Dean wasn't laughing anymore. "You shouldn't be embarrassed for anything."

Sam nodded, trying to repress the urge to duck his head and let his hair fall on his face again.

"I don't think I've ever said that to you, Sammy, but I was so proud of you." Sam scoffed, because no way in hell that was true. "Serious. You're brilliant, Sam. You deserved to be someone else. You're a genius, you shouldn't be stuck with me hunting, you should be out there doing things..."

Sam reached a hand to touch his brother's shoulder. "Stop right there. I like who I am, Dean. I like whom I've become. I wouldn't trade it. I like being in the road with you, and I'm not _stuck_. It's what I want. I _want_ to be with you."

Sam's heart leaped with pain.

He would give anything, _anything_ for Dean to understand what he really meant. He wanted to be with Dean, always wanted, there was nowhere he'd rather be than exactly where he was now, sitting on that big ass rock in a farm in the middle of nowhere under the cooling sun two days before Halloween. That right there was his idea of happiness.

Dean returned his gaze with intent, and then looked down at Sam's hand on his shoulder. Sam immediately pulled away, but Dean was faster, and held his hand midair.

"I'm still proud of you." He said then, pulling Sam by the hand. Sam went with absolutely no struggle, and crashed right into Dean's chest.

Dean hugged him so hard Sam thought he would never recover again from the lack of oxygen in his chest when he stopped breathing. Because hugging his brother when something happened or when they were apart for a while was good, but being hugged just because, being hugged after the things Dean had just said... It was almost just too much to handle. He thought he was going to burst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little reminder that I've never carved a pumpkin in my life (I mean, I live in Brazil, folks, we don't have this sort of thing here, we just have, like, beaches and coconuts), so forgive me if this sounds all made up. It is.


	7. I don't know what you're doing to me, but it sure feels right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The music Sam mentions in this chapter is Sure Feels Right, by Sixx:a.m.   
> I strongly recommend this band, especially this one song (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eKLAt3XO03s). Hope you guys like this chapter. My heart is still a little melted from all the fluff in this chapter <3

Later that night, there was a campfire. Everyone gathered around it, sharing blankets and roasting marshmallows. The weather was immeasurably cold, and Sam was about to go back to the cabin to get another jacket when Dean’s Spidey Senses tingled. He threw a side of his blanket around his brother’s shoulders, crossing his arms on his chest and looking away like it was no big deal. 

Sam’s little smile grew onto a full on, all teeth grin, and he snuggled a little closer, sticking his marshmallow directly into the sparkly fire. 

They stayed there for a long time, sharing slightly burned marshmallows and listening to the scary stories being told around the fire. It was a totally new experience for Sam, that of gathering around a fire with a bunch of people he didn’t know, just listening to scary stories and for once not being a part of it. He decided he liked the feeling of the heat from the fire on his cheeks, and the heat from his brother under the shared blanket. 

Sam dared to look at Dean’s profile illuminated by the fire. His cheeks were rosy and his eyes looked shiny. Sam thought about how this was starting to feel like a habit now (and a bad one at that), staring at his brother’s stupidly pretty face when he wasn’t looking.  

The staff member accompanying the nocturnal activity had brought an acoustic guitar along with the gigantic marshmallow bag – that everyone attacked as soon as he showed up –, but no one seemed to have noticed it until he brought the subject up. "Anyone up for a song?" 

The group happily started singing a campfire song Sam didn’t really knew the words to. He noticed how Dean seemed to enjoy the moment, humming along without singing, probably because he also didn’t know the lyrics. A minute after, though, they started to sing an old Bob Dylan song, and Dean’s voice vibrated lightly through the blanket, filling Sam’s chest with an warmth he didn’t even know was possible. 

"You should sing something" he said only for Dean, leaning on his shoulder and stealing the marshmallow Dean was holding but not quite eating. 

"What? No!" 

"Why not? Your voice is good." 

"No, it’s not" 

"It is." 

"You really think so?" 

"Yeah, I really think so" Sam hummed to the sound of Wagon Wheel. He could practically feel Dean’s gaze locked on the back of his head as he bent towards the marshmallow bag and snatched a few. 

Sam didn’t really think Dean would take his suggestion seriously, so when they finished the song with a last - really out of tune - "mama rock me", he didn’t really expect to hear his brother’s voice speaking out loud. 

"Can I borrow this real quick?" Dean asked, and the guitar was on his lap in a blink of an eye. 

Sam saw the group of swooning girls squeal for a second before he realized what was really going on. Dean’s voice once again rumbled through the blanket, but this time Sam was sure not only his chest was warm. 

Dean played to _Sure Feels Right –_ Sam’s favorite Sixx:a.m. song _–_ like he had been playing it all his life. For a moment, Sam was stuck seeing his brother’s hands fly on the strings. That one thing right there catapulted to the number one on the list of things he would never get tired of seeing Dean doing, right over riding his car. It took him another moment to realize Dean was looking at him. Straight into Sam’s eyes, searching for something Sam didn’t really know what, but oh how was he desperate to provide… 

At the last chorus, Sam heart was pounding so hard he thought his ribs would break.

Dean finished the song with a round of really enthusiastic applause from everyone around the bonfire. He then returned the guitar to the guy, and turned back to Sam. 

"You ok?" Dean whispered, snatching the marshmallows Sam didn’t even remember he was still holding.  

Sam looked at his hands, now sticking with melted marshmallows, and waited until his heart stopped pounding so loudly before he took the blanket off of his shoulders, feeling so warm suddenly that the little hairs on the nape of his neck started to sweat. 

"Sammy?" 

"Yeah, I- I’m good. I didn’t know you still could play the guitar, though." 

Dean just brushed it away. “Yeah, well, I think it's like riding a bike, y’know? I don't think you can really forget how to do it.” 

What Sam wanted to say, more than anything, was “Dean, you're so awesome. That was my favorite song! I love you so much!”. He didn’t want to get punched in the face, though, so he just said “Dude, that's great”. 

“Yeah.” 

One of the girls from the swooning little group -as Sam was calling them now- chose that moment to stand up and march towards Dean with a decided look on her face. She took the only vacant sit beside his brother and smiled at him like she expected him to just melt into her cleavage. And who the hell wore that much cleavage in a weather like that, anyway? 

Sam rolled his eyes as the girl started to introduce herself, never stopping smiling, and touching Dean's bicep too often to be really casual. They talked lightly under the sound of another music the staff guy started to sing, and Sam's attention drifted off from the conversation. His chest was still warm with the memory of Dean looking at his eyes and singing _that song_ , and he honest to god thought about how it was probably going to be just as warm when he thought about that a week from now. He smiled to himself, accepting the roasted marshmallow Dean passed to him without really paying attention, the big brother mode activated when it came to feeding his snotty little brother. 

Sam stuffed his mouth with the sweet, suddenly too aware of the conversation by his side. 

“I'm on the cabin right down by the lake” the girl was saying, still smiling that too-bright-to-be-real smile. Dean chuckled and murmured a low “yeah?”, and just like that Sam's little bubble of happiness exploded. 

Of course Dean was going to accept the offer. When didn't he, right?  

Sam was feeling so dumb right now. What did he think, after all? That Dean would just suddenly realize he wanted to date his own brother just because they had a moment back in the lake that afternoon? Just because he sang a stupidly beautiful song in a stupid bonfire?

Actually, who was he trying to fool? There wasn't really such thing as a moment between them. It was just him, seeing things that weren't there, just because of this stupidly blinding crush he had on his stupid big brother. 

Sam decided he didn't want to hear the rest of the conversation. 

He stuffed the rest of the marshmallow on his mouth, just to spare him the need to actually say anything, gave his brother a little tap on the shoulder -that one that said “I'm ok, I'm heading out”- and went on his way, leaving behind Dean, the girl, the warmth of the fire and the forgotten shared blanket. 

 

*** 

 

When he tucked himself in on his bed, the covers were cold. He wasn't really expecting them to be warm or anything -he wasn't that stupid-, but thinking about just how much warmer it would have been if Dean were there too was making him much bitterer than he thought. 

He also wasn't expecting Dean to be back on their cabin, so it was once again a big surprise when he heard the door opening a minute after he had turn off the lights. His hunter instincts kicked in immediately and he jumped on the bed, his hand going directly to the knife under his pillow, but the intruder wasn't trying to force in, he was simply unlocking the door with his own set of spare keys. 

Dean's voice sounded really small in the dark. “Sammy?” 

Sam's muscles relaxed under the sound of his brother's calming tone, and he reached to the nightstand, turning on the light. “Hey” 

“What happened, man? I thought we were having a good time?” the slightest hurt tone made Sam's guts twist. He felt even more stupid now. 

Of course Dean wouldn't just go with that girl, she was way too young for him. Sam felt like an idiot. 

“I wasn't feeling very well” he lied. Well, not entirely. He did feel a little sick at the thought of his brother expending the night at some girl’s cabin. Now, he knew he was being a jealous bastard, but he didn't really want to think about it (it’s not like he could control that, anyway).   

Dean just nodded and closed the door behind him. 

Sam observed while Dean took off his jacket and went straight to the bathroom without so much as looking at his brother. He returned a moment later, wearing his gray sweat pants and humming softly under his breath. That made Sam's mind fly back directly to the moment when Dean sang to him. Well, not  _to him_ , of course, but Sam's stomach apparently didn't want to acknowledge that and still turned upside down at the thought. 

“You okay?” Dean slipped under the covers. “Do I need to get you something?” 

“I'm fine.” Sam replied, immediately feeling the warmth from his brother's body, his muscles relaxing even more now.  

“You shouldn't have eaten my marshmallows if you were going to be sick” Dean huffed, turning to face Sam while he turned off the lights again. 

“I didn't know I was going to be sick” of course, him feeling sick had absolutely nothing to do with the marshmallows, but Dean didn't have to know that, right? “Isn't it a little early to sleep?” He asked without paying much attention to what he was saying, just wanting to keep talking. 

“A little, yeah. But that's ok, if you're not feeling very well.” 

Once again, Sam's chest warmed with Dean's words. He didn't exactly know what was going on, but he decided he liked when Dean acted like that. 

“Thank you.” 

“For what?” 

“I don't know, just being there for me?” 

“You're my little brother. I gotta watch out for you.” 

Sam's stomach twisted again, but this time not in a very pleasant way. This is what Dad used to say.  _Watch out for your little brother_. It was Dean's job, looking out for him, and that was engraved on hi soul, like he actually believed he was born to do so.  _Watch out for Sammy._

When Sam was a kid, he used to hate that about his brother. The way he acted like he owned Sam, like Sam belonged to him and was his responsibility. He used to hate that Dean had to do Dad's job, he hated that Dean had to act like a parent to him, even when he himself needed a parent. Now he was grateful for that, for how Dean took care of him and assured that Sam had an as closest to normal childhood as possible, but he still hated that Dean had this weight on his shoulders since he wasn't even big enough to look out for himself. 

“You don't always have to watch out for me, you know that, right?” Sam whispered after a long moment, just watching the silhouette of Dean's chest rise and fall, fitted against the weak light entering from the windows. 

“Except that I do have. Cut it out, Sam.” 

“No. I mean it. It's not your job to take care of me, you should know that by now, Dean.” 

Dean huffed again in the dark, turning his entire body towards Sam now and propping his head on his hand and staring at his brother like he did when he thought Sam was slowly going insane. 

“It  _is_  my job, Sammy. Not because Dad said so, a million years ago, but because you're my little brother. You'll always be my little brother, no matter how much of a moose you turn yourself into.” 

Sam chuckled, but Dean's words made an impact deep down.  _You'll always be my little brother._

“Dean? Can I ask you something?” 

“’Course.” 

“What did you do when you thought I was dead, back when that Corbin guy strangled me? Honestly this time. What did you do?” 

“Sam, you don't wanna know. Just let it be, will you?” 

“Come on, Dean. Tell me. I wanna know.” 

Dean didn't say a word for a long time, but Sam also didn't push. He knew Dean was going to tell him, he just needed a moment to think about the best way to say whatever it was he was going to. Sam's breath was frozen on his chest, each second that Dean stayed silent, a new possibility popping on his head. What if he tried to make a deal again? Sam knew he was stupid like that.

“I kind of died, ok?” 

All the air inside Sam's lungs escaped through his mouth like Dean had just punched him in the stomach. 

“You did  _what_?” 

“I took a bunch of pills and-” 

Sam flew on Dean’s throat, straddling his hips with his knees and getting ready to punch him in the face. Dean didn't even flinch. “Did you seriously try to kill yourself?” 

“Technically, yeah.” 

He tried to hit him, Sam honest to God tried to punch Dean for how stupid he was, but he only managed to collapse on his brother's chest, his nose aching with the promise of tears. 

Sam was proud to say he was a very tough guy. Actually, he didn't think he cried _once_ since the last time Dean died on him - which were more than a year ago now - but that was still the only reason he would let a tear fall down his face. 

Now, however, his tear fell directly onto his brother's neck, and unlike all the times he cried before because of his brother's death, now Dean was still here to hold him.  He felt Dean's hands going straight to his hair, tangling his fingers on Sam's scalp and tugging gently. 

Even after all these times, it was still painful to think about Dean dying. Sam didn’t really think it would ever stop hurting.

“You stupid asshole, how could you do that?” 

“I'm sorry, Sammy” he whispered against his hair, holding Sam like he was four again and needed the reassurance of his big brother's presence. “I thought you were dead.” 

“What about Cas? What about the Darkness? Who's gonna save all those people if you're dead, Dean??” 

“Sam, it's like you don't know me at all. I love Cas, he's my best friend. But you're my brother, Sam. I have no illusions that I can live without you anymore.” 

“How could you do that to me, then?” Sam's voice sounded muffled on Dean's skin, and he still wanted to punch him in the face, but more than anything, he needed to make sure Dean was there, that he was okay. “You didn't think how it would make me feel to find out you killed yourself for me again? Haven't you learned anything from the last time?” 

“I thought you were dead!” Dean repeated, pulling Sam's entire body even closer, smashing him against his chest and leaving no room for him to move or try to hit him again. “I tried to trade places, Sam, but if Billie didn't accept, I was ready to die. We were both ready to die. I wouldn't let you go without me, not this time.” 

Sam stayed like that for a long moment, listening to Dean talk about how Billie said Sam wasn't dead, and how Michelle helped to save his life. He shouldn't be feeling that way right now, calming himself on his brother's scent of soap and burnt marshmallows, but moments like that, when Dean allowed himself to be like this again, Sam just couldn't help feeling like a little boy again. 

“You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

Dean just chuckled. “I know.”

When Sam pulled away, Dean kept one hand on his shoulder and looked at his brother with a little smile that Sam tried not to overthink.

“You know, maybe this whole single bed deal wasn’t so bad, after all.”

Sam’s heart thumped on his ribcage like it was suddenly trying to rip it open. “Yeah? And how’s that?”

Dean smirked. Honestly. “Because it’s easier to do this.”

And then all the air fled from Sam’s lungs as Dean attacked him in a surprise wrestling session. He didn’t knew exactly if he was supposed to fight back or just lie still and die from Dean’s hands tickling his ribs, but either way, his chest hurt from crying and laughing, all at the same time.

“Stop it, asshole!”

“Make me, little brother. I dare you.”

Sam felt his whole body going stiff, and for a second he considered meeting Dean’s lips with his own. It was just for a second, but it lasted long enough for Dean to notice something was off.

As Dean pulled away to look at his face, Sam thought about the fastest way to kill himself just so he wouldn’t have to think about an excuse for the moment.

“Hey Sammy, you okay? Did I hurt you?”

Dean was so close. Close enough that if Sam just tilted his head a bit, he could literally lick his brother’s lips. He thought about how Dean would react, but didn’t dare think about him returning the kiss. All he could think about was Dean shooting away and looking back at him like Sam was worse than a piece of candy wrapper glued to the bottom of his duffle bag.

He must have let some of his thoughts show on his face, because now Dean was looking at him with his stupidly beautiful eyes wide open, searching the answer on his face. His minty breath washed over Sam’s cheeks and Sam was finding it very hard to breathe himself.

“No, of course not.” He answered with a little laugh that sounded fake even to his own ears.

“Sam. Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just don’t get all over me like that, dude, it’s weird.” Sam obviously meant it as a joke, but didn’t quite manage to slip the little laugh he pretended to at the end. It ended up sounding very much like he imagined Dean would sound if he ever found out exactly what Sam was thinking about him not even a minute ago.

Dean nodded and pulled back to his side of the bed. He didn’t look very convinced at Sam’s response, and laid casually at the very farthest end of the bed, putting as much space as possible between them.

Sam let out a breath of disappointment with himself.

Of course.

Trust Sam to mess up a rare moment like that with his stupid crush on his big brother.

“I didn’t mean it like that, you moron” He said then, grabbing his brother’s arm and pulling him closer to the center of the bed again. “C’mon, I was just joking.” Dean just settled comfortably on his spot and turned to look at the ceiling. “I’m clearly not very good at that.”

Dean laughed. “Clearly.”

They stayed quiet for a moment, and Sam listened his brother’s breath evening slowly. He sincerely thought Dean was already asleep when he whispered his name softly. “Dean?”

Dean’s voice sounded muffled by sleepiness. “Yeah?”

“Can I ask you another thing?”

“Always, Sammy.”

Sam hesitated. “Do you think you will ever want to get out? I mean, do you ever think about quitting the life?” Dean huffed a breath like he was going to cut Sam before he finished his thread of thinking, so Sam just went and said everything in a rush.

What he tried to say was that he knew Dean had said he didn’t see a life for him outside of hunting, but he wondered if he changed his mind, now that he was free from the mark and had a place to call home. He wanted to say that even if they both knew neither of them could actually get married and leave behind all the shit they had done, they still could get out. Maybe not even stop completely, but at least do less? Get a vacation from time to time, visit freaking Disneyland just for the sake of it. Sam wanted to tell Dean that even if they couldn’t marry some random pretty girl, they still had each other, and they could as well settle down a little and live peacefully, just helping the kids from the bunker.

What Sam actually managed to say, though, despite being fully educated and fluent in a odd number of languages, were: “You’re getting old and you need to find a person and go to Disneyland, or you’re going to be alone forever.”

Dean looked at Sam like he had just put his head inside one of the pumpkin lanterns outside the cottage and laid in the bed with it. He looked and sounded very awake right now, though. “Sam, you… what?”

He let out a nervous laugh. “No, I mean, not that you’re old. But, I mean, you really kinda are getting old, though. Right?”

Dean covered the rest of the inches that separated them on the bed and put his hand on Sam’s forehead, the big brother instinct clearly kicking in. “Sam, you’re not making the slightest sense, baby. Are you ill? Does your head hurt? Wait, are you on drugs?”

Sam laughed with amusement this time, battling Dean’s hand away from his forehead. He stayed close, though, and again his brother’s minty breath made an appearance, doing a very good job on messing with Sam’s coherence even more. “I’m fine, stop that. Let me reformulate it.”

Dean nodded, a funny smile crossing his face and making the little wrinkles around his eyes look really attractive under the almost inexistent moonlight coming from the window. Sam took a dep breath and tried to reorganize his thoughts.

He once again thought about what he wanted to say, still a little distracted, now by Dean’s sudden closeness again and the stupid sound of his heart thumping on Sam’s chest.

“What I was trying to say,” Sam started again, calming himself with the steadiness of his brother’s compassed breath on his cheeks, “is that maybe you should lay down the whole hunting thing for a while after we deal with all this Darkness mess. You’re not twenty anymore and, hell, neither am I. We have the bunker, and we already saved the world once or twice, if I’m not wrong. I seriously think you should at least consider the option to stop hunting.”

Sam thought he had phrased his thoughts correctly this time, but the lost look on Dean’s face taught him otherwise. Before he could say another thing, though, Dean moved a little closer and stared right into Sam’s eyes, with a gaze so intense Sam had trouble repressing the shiver down his spine.

“Sam,” Dean said quietly, looking for something inside his brother’s eyes, “if this is some sort of euphemism for you trying to say you want to leave again, just stop it. If you want to leave the life, if you want to stop hunting and find yourself a girl and have an apple pie life like you always dreamed of, just go ahead and say it. I’m not gonna get in the way anymore. I did that in the past and it was worse. It was painful, to say the least. I’m not gonna do it anymore, and I know you damn well deserve to have everything you dreamed of. Like you said, you already had your fair share of saving the world, more the _once or twice_.”

Sam almost laughed, but it would have been really rude, what with Dean being so honest and open, for the second time in only one night. Sam could officially consider himself a lucky man now, seriously. It didn’t stop being funny, though, just because he knew it was too much assholery of him to just laugh on his brother’s face.

What Sam did, then, was smile. He smiled and lunched forward, wrapping his octopus-like arms around Dean’s shoulders and chuckling lightly against the skin of his neck.

Dean’s voice came muffled in Sam’s hair. “Sammy?”

“You’re an idiot if you think I still want to get away from you.” Sam said pulling back from the quick embrace, punching Dean lightly on the shoulder. “I don’t want to leave and find a girl and have an ‘apple pie life’, Dean. All I’m saying is that we should take a break. That’s all. Me and you, go to the beach, visit a museum, I don’t really care. I just want to have some fun for a change.”

Dean nodded, looking a mix of relief and doubt, and still not pulling away from Sam.

Now, Sam knew he was trying to have more than he was allowed to, thinking about going on vacation with his brother like a bride think about Honeymoon with her husband, but he didn’t really care. Not with Dean being so close he could just wrap his arms around his waist and pull him against his body… not that he would actually do it, of course. But it didn’t stop him from wanting.

“Are you not having fun here?” Dean asked, confusion written all over his face.

Sam chuckled again. “Yeah, now that you’re saying, I guess I am. But we’re still here because of a monster, so I don’t think it really counts as vacation.”

Sam expected another reaction from his brother. A remark about the case, some commentary on Sam’s childish desire to go on a trip with his big bro, but Dean only kept staring at Sam’s face.

He couldn’t read Dean’s expression anymore, and that erased the silly smile off of Sam’s face pretty quickly. He looked puzzled, like he was trying to put something together in his mind and the answer took residence inside of Sam’s eyes.

"Sam," he said again, now looking at anything but Sam's face. That made Sam's gut twist with something he couldn't quite figure out yet. "How mad are you gonna be if I tell you I lied to you about another thing?"

And there it was. The twist in Sam's gut turned into a tornado.

"What are you talking about?"

The worst scenarios played on Sam's head and it got worse and worse each second Dean hesitated without looking at his face. He was honestly a little terrified. After all, what could possibly be worse than discovering the fact that Dean tried to kill himself when he thought Sam had died?

"Dean, just say it already, dammit!"

Dean inhaled a monstrous amount of air, and then spilled all at once: "Thereisnotarealhunthere."

"There isn't a... Dean, _what_? What do you mean there isn't a real hunt? What the hell are we doing here, then?"

Sam almost jumped out of the bed, and he seriously would, if Dean had not hold him in place before he could even think about doing something.

"Look, this is gonna sound really stupid, ok?"

"It already sounds stupid, Dean."

"I know, shut up and let me talk." Dean closed his eyes for a second, and then finally started to talk, probably sensing Sam freaking out internally. "After what happened with the werewolves, I was really scared about losing you again. And, I mean, I _really_ was scared, because that was supposed to be an easy hunt, just chopping some heads and going back home, and it didn't even cross my mind that something was going to happen to you. Hell, I wasn't afraid of it for years now, I thought everything was awesome and suddenly it comes back to bite me in the ass. I was going to lose you, again, for some stupid werewolf, Sam! A stupid dog on steroids! That's why after we got home from that, I wanted to just spend some time with you and make sure you were safe, otherwise I was probably going to freak out. I was at the edge of wrapping you up in bubble wrap in your sleep and lock you in the dungeons just so you would be safe. That's when I found the flyer for this place. I thought it would be really nice to just spend some time away from everything and relax a little, and I wanted to bring you here, but I didn't want to actually tell you why I wanted to be here. You see, if I told you the real reasons, you would start asking questions, and that would lead to the one question I didn't want to answer. But now you asked it anyway, right? So, no reason to hide it anymore."

Sam was absolutely baffled. “What about the victims? I saw the papers!”

“Yeah, well, someone took care of it at this time last year.”

Sam was stuck between wanting to punch his brother in the face again or just laugh at the surprisingly sweetness of it all.

"Dude, did you seriously just made up a whole case just to bring me to a freaking _cottage_ in a _farm_ because you were afraid you were going to lose your mind and wrap me in bubble wrap?" 

Dean closed his eyes again, flinching at Sam's words.

"This is hilarious. Seriously. Dean, you're awesome."

And Sam couldn't keep himself from laughing anymore. He laughed a full belly laugh, bending on the bed and resting his forehead on Dean's chest and feeling it move slightly with Dean's laugh as well.

"You owe me so much for lying, Winchester. I'm not even joking, you hear me?" He said, his voice muffled on Dean's shirt.

"Yeah, ok, fair enough." Dean replied, fisting his hand on Sam's hair and tilting his head down to rest his lips on his brother's scalp.

Sam kept on laughing softly, but he could only feel Dean's lips feather light on his hair. He buried his nose on his chest and stayed there for a minute, breathing again on Dean's smell of aftershave and toothpaste and burnt marshmallows.

"There's another thing I didn't tell you," Dean said against Sam's hair, in a whisper so small Sam thought for a moment he didn't listen correctly. He only stayed quiet, then, still buried on his chest, waiting for Dean to elaborate. "But this time I need you to really promise not to be mad at me."

Sam wanted to look up and read in Dean's eyes what he was trying to say, but after all the revelations that night had brought, he was actually a little scared this time. He then just traced a little cross on his brother's chest with his finger and once again waited for Dean to continue.

"We didn't really have to stay on this _cottage_. The one with just one bed, I mean. I... I think I just wanted to be closer to you."

At that, Sam managed to look up. He looked into his brother's eyes, searching for the real meaning of what he was saying, but didn't find anything. Sam wasn't very familiar with this sensation of looking into Dean's eyes and not being able to read his emotions, so he just kept looking for a bit, trying to make some sense of it all. It was just too much to handle all of a sudden.

Once again, his heart beat like a crazy drum against his chest.

"It's ok." He said, nodding his head to make his point. "It's not a big deal, really. I like being... here. With you, I mean."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah..."

"Sam?"

"Hm?"

"Can I kiss you?"

For a moment, Sam thought he had fallen asleep and was in the middle of one of his stupid wet dreams about his big brother. Only that now, when he nodded yes and Dean lunched forward, he realized it couldn't be. It was just too good.

Dean cupped Sam's jaw with the hand that wasn't already fisted in his hair and rested his forehead against Sam's before moving painfully slow and touching his brother's lips with his own. Dean's touch was so surprisingly soft Sam could feel his heart melt completely inside his chest. He always thought that if he someday kissed Dean for some crazy reason he didn't even think about, his head wouldn't let him focus on the kiss and would just mess everything up, but the way Dean held his head and fitted his lips between Sam's like pieces on a puzzle, he couldn't think of anything. It was like his brain had melted along with his heart.

Dean licked softly at Sam's bottom lip, and his heart leaped. Sam opened his mouth and felt Dean slip his tongue against his, so hot and demanding and perfect that Sam couldn't do anything other than kiss him back and lick at his mouth, his lips, his teeth, eager like a teenager, and at the same time moving so slow Dean could as well have just stopped time just for them.

He kept kissing his brother, and Dean kept licking at his tongue like it was a cherry flavored lollipop.

Dean kissed like he fought: precise, strong, bossy. And Sam just felt exactly on his place, following his big brother like he was designed for it.

When they pulled apart, Dean didn't let go of his hair.

"Is it okay?" He whispered, looking from Sam's eyes to Sam's mouth back and forth, like he couldn't decide where to keep his gaze.

"Yeah. Yes."

And just like that, they were kissing again. Dean holding his face, Sam glued at his chest, their tongues slipping against each other, their bodies warm and comfortable under the blanket.

They stayed like that for what seemed like hours, days even, just kissing. It felt almost chaste, if only Dean's tongue weren't buried inside his baby brother's mouth, tasting him like he'd waited for that his whole damn life.

Sam wanted to ask what all that meant for Dean, wanted to know why, wanted to know how long, and most of all, wanted to know how this was going to change things between them. 

Dean must've sensed that, because he ended the kiss with a series of pecks and kitten licks at Sam's lips and once again rested his forehead against his.

"I know you want to talk, Sam. I can feel it in my bones. But not right now, ok? Not tonight."

Sam nodded, still a little astonished by all that. He was about to ask something, though, when Dean captured his mouth again, slipping his tongue easily inside one more time before pulling apart and bringing Sam to his chest.

"Tomorrow." He said then, letting Sam lay his head on his chest and holding him tight against his body. "We'll talk tomorrow, I promise."

Sam's heart felt lightweight as he nodded, burying his nose on Dean's shirt again and feeling his arms around his body.

"Goodnight, Sammy."

"Goodnight, Dean."


	8. Dean Winchester is an asshole, confirmed.

When Sam was little, it felt familiar to him waking up with the feeling of an ice cube sliding down his spine every time he would wake up alone in their motel room because dad had taken Dean on a hunt. Now, when Sam woke up the morning after the bonfire, there was a little spot inside his chest burning like it was lit on fire...

It took him a moment to figure out what it meant, though.

He rolled on the bed, squirting his eyes against the light coming through the open curtains, and covered his head with the pillow that wasn’t already under his head.

Dean’s pillow.

That’s when it hit him.

Dean had kissed him last night. His big brother Dean, his favorite person on Earth, the one person he had loved for the entirety of his life, kissed him. On the mouth. Full on.

The little spot inside his chest exploded like a supernova.

Sam smiled under the pillow, feeling his cheeks warm up like he’d stayed the whole day under the sun, just before he threw it away from his face and opened his sleepy eyes. He planned to climb over Dean and kiss his cheekbones to wake him, just because he could.

When he turned towards his brother, though, his heart leaped on his chest and then sunk to the bottom of his ribcage.

Dean wasn’t there.

Sam tried to stay calm. He got up from the bed slowly, and headed for the bathroom. A moment after, he was under the hot spray of water, the most diverse scenarios crossing through his mind. Of course Dean would freak out, _what was he expecting_? For him to suddenly discover to be having an incestuous gay crush on his little brother, even though he’d never had given even the slightest clue of feeling anything different from just brotherly feelings? Of course, for as long as he’d known, people had mistaken them for a couple as often as Dean ordered pie every time they went to a nicer diner, but that didn’t mean anything really.

He tilted his head up and let the water scald his face for a moment.

 

*

 

When Dean actually came back to the room, Sam had made his mind: if Dean wanted to act like nothing had happened, then he would too. If it was just a game to him, then Sam were more than willing to play along.

“Hey” Dean greeted, putting the breakfast bag in the little table in front of the couch and sinking in the cushions by himself.

“Hey,” Sam replied and made his way towards the couch, flopping down beside his brother, closer than he would have a day before, just to see Dean’s reaction. When Dean did nothing other than snatch a donut and stuff his face with it, Sam just dropped the smirk that was trying to sneak its way to the corner of his mouth and snatched a donut for himself.

He felt absolutely miserable.

“So,” Dean said with his face smeared with sugar, and Sam flinched under the sudden desire to lick it clean. “I was thinking, maybe we should go back? I mean, there is no hunt here anyway. We don’t really have anything holding us here, right?”

A wave of disappointment washed through Sam, and he wondered if it was possible to sink any further than he already was into the cushions.

As an answer, Sam just shrugged; he stared intently at his half bitten donut, hating it like it had personally offended him, and threw it back on the box.

Dean clapped his hands and whipped the sugar from his mouth. “Awesome.”

*

Fifteen minutes later, they had already packed and Dean was handing the keys back to that same dude behind the counter in the reception room that had handed Dean the exact same keys a couple of days ago.

While Dean walked back towards the car, Sam took a moment to pity himself and mop watching the kids they’d had a fun time with (mostly) parade around the pumpkin patch already in their costumes for the party that night. It _was_ a bit out of character for him to be upset over a stupid Halloween party he was being sort of denied. God knows how many parties he’d been denied in the past, but usually it was because of a hunt, not for the lack of one. Truth be told, though, his mopping had nothing to with the party.

Dean kicked playfully at his boots when he got close enough, making his way to the driver’s seat and making Sam jump on the passenger’s.

“I grabbed some lunch for you at the buffet earlier,” Dean said while already beckoning baby towards the road, pointing to a brown bag between them on the front seat. Sam frowned so hard his eyebrows almost merged in the middle. Dean _never_ put anything between them in the front seat. He said nothing about it, though. It felt almost like Dean was purposefully trying to put space between him and Sam, and that thought made Sam’s stomach twist uncomfortably. Dean, however, just kept talking like nothing was wrong. “I think we can make it back to the bunker tonight if we don’t stop so much in the way.”

Sam just nodded. “Yeah, whatever you say, Dean.”

 

***

 

They do make it to the bunker that night. It’s almost nine when Dean parks the Impala in the Man of Letters’ garage and Sam jumps out of the car with his duffle even before the engine stops purring completely. Dean still takes a little time to follow, staying behind to organize things or whatever it was he did when Sam left him alone with the cars.

Sam went straight to his room and locked himself behind his door.

The ride had been a nightmare. Sam tried to stay as far away from Dean as possible, which sucked big time. He kept chewing at his thoughts while Dean drove them home, listening to the same set of songs they had listened on the way there; now, though, Sam just _hated_ it when Steven Tyler started to scream about going crazy ( _crazy for you, baby_ ). Mostly because he was actually about to go crazy himself. He hated how Dean seemed so at easy when Sam couldn’t do anything more than play last night on his head over and over again, trying to figure out what had gone wrong. He was actually starting to consider the possibility of it being just one more of his dreams, and if it was so, Dean’s behavior fitted perfectly, and Sam was the one acting weird.

When Sam carded his fingers through his hair, though, all he could feel was the warmth of his brother’s hands intertwined in it. When he smacked his lips, all he could feel was the sweetness of Dean’s. When he licked at his teeth, all he could think of was Dean’s tongue along his bottom lip.

He had not _dreamed_ it; he _was not_ crazy.

Then why was Dean being such a jerk about it? _Why_ was he acting like an asshole?

Guilty? Did he feel regret, perhaps?

Sam just stayed staring outside the window the entire time, mopping. He only stopped frowning aimlessly at the view to eat the salad Dean had picked for him back at the farm.

“Are you ok, Sammy?” Dean had asked, fishing the chicken out of Sam’s salad without even looking at him. Sam wondered if stares could kill, but Dean seemed oblivious.

“ _Peachy_.” he answered with his voice packed with sarcasm, and pushed the rest of the chicken to the side, so Dean could pick it up and continue to drive without killing them both.

Dean didn’t seem to notice the sarcasm, and the sound of _Get a grip_ filled car for the rest of the way.

So, when they parked inside the bunker, the first thing Sam had wanted to do was bury himself under his blankets and try not to cry like a teenage girl rejected by their first crush. He did not, though. What he did instead was unpack his duffle, grab a pair of clean pants and go straight to the shower. He tried not to repeat the scene he stared in in the shower that morning, cleaning himself up like he was somehow going to be able to wash Dean off from under his skin.

It didn’t work.

It didn’t help either.

*

Sam finished his shower as fast as he could, put on his flannel pajama pants, and considered for a moment if he really wanted to go outside for dinner. His stomach made a loud growl, though, so he had no choice other than put on a shirt and order a pizza, ignoring the fact that he should probably ask Dean what he wanted to eat first. He goes back to the garage without finding Dean in the way, and jumps on one of the cars, one he knew still had some gas.

The downside of living in a hidden batcave is that sometimes you have to drive to the next block when you want to order something to eat. Today, Sam didn’t mind, though. He _wanted_ to get away from his brother, because he knew he wasn’t going to be able to hold back his anger much longer. He wanted to jump on Dean's throat and yell at him for acting like a douchebag, but at the same time, he wanted to play it cool and pretend he didn't care too, pretend he didn't feel sad and rejected, like that kiss didn't mean anything to him as well. He _knew_ he couldn’t, though; that's why Sam was actually glad he had to drive to the address he gave the pizza place on the phone half an hour ago.

When Sam gets the pizza and pretend he lives in the house in front of which he parked the car, the delivery guy Sam already knew from all the times he's ordered pizza before, gives him a compassionate smile and comments on how tired he looks, tells him he should take a break or something. Sam tries not to feel affected by it, remembering that technically he _was_ kind of taking a break until Dean decided he wanted to go home and pretend nothing had happened, and as soon as the guy turn the corner at the end of the street, Sam jumped back on the driver's seat and drove back to the bunker.

God, he just wanted to be drunk right now. Fuck the pizza, he just wanted to get wasted.  
Dean was sitting in the Man of Letters' Library when Sam went down the stairs at the entrance, already thinking about putting the pizza directly on the fridge and grabbing a whiskey bottle instead. Dean, however, looked up from the book he was reading and smiled at Sam in that way that made Sam's knees go a little weak (which right now he pretty much hated. Like, with his whole heart).

"Always reading my mind, Sammy" he cheered, flipping the book closed and opening space for Sam to put the pizza box on the table.

Sam rolled his eyes, but took a sit in front of Dean anyway, stealing his already lukewarm beer.

"That's disgusting" he said, returning the beer and picking up a slice of pizza instead.

Dean just shrugged, "Then get your own beer, genius."

"You get. I brought pizza!"

"Fair enough."

Sam didn't actually expect Dean to get him a drink, but he did, snatching a slice of pepperoni pizza for himself and jogging quickly to the kitchen to get Sam a cold beer.

"You're not drinking?" Sam asked when Dean returned with only one bottle.

"Nah. Don't really wanna be drunk tonight."

Sam stayed there with his pizza halfway to his mouth, looking at Dean like he just developed a third arm. A green one.

"What?" He asked, putting down the slice. "Who _are_ you?"

Dean chuckled and stuffed his face the pizza before answering with his mouth full. "Can't I be sobber for a day? Jesus, Sam, it's like you don't know me."

"Right now, I feel like I don't." Sam replied, looking at his own beer and suddenly deciding he also didn't want to be drunk anymore.

"New me, Sammy, new me."

Sam kept on munching on his half a slice of pizza, trying to absorb what Dean had just said, while his brother started babbling about a cool movie he watched on Netflix the other day.

"...and I think you'll really like it, since you're such a nerd." He finished, closing the now empty pizza box. Sam didn't even bother replying, but mostly because he wasn't really paying attention to any of it. Dean, however, seemed to be waiting for an answer, and that startled Sam.

“What?”

“You didn’t hear a word I said, did you?” Sam smiled apologetically. “Disappointed, Sam, really disappointed.”

“What was that, anyway?” Sam asked, getting up and chugging down the rest of his beer.

“I said,” Dean huffed and got up as well, looking actually pretty disappointed, which surprised Sam a whole lot more than it should. “I saw one of those ad thingies on Netflix about some cool French movie I thought you’d like. We should watch it tonight.”

Sam snorted. “’A cool French movie’? Dean. What’s going on?”

“What do you mean what’s going on? I just thought you would like it, that’s all. If you don’t want to see it, that’s cool, man.”

“I didn’t say that.”

Dean just shrugged, “It’s ok. It was a stupid idea anyway.”

Something tightened inside Sam’s chest. His heart, probably. He put down the bottle of beer and, betraying his own resolution of staying cool and pretend he wasn’t bothered, he looked at Dean like he hung the moon in the sky. “I didn’t mean it like that, Dean.”

“It’s ok.”

“Do you still wanna watch it, though?”

“Do _you_?”

“Of course I want. C’mon, let’s go to my room.”

They stopped on the kitchen, what with Dean insisting they should have popcorn as well, even though they had just eaten a whole pizza. Sam stayed loosely leaning against the counter, watching Dean move around the kitchen, gathering the things to make not only the gigantic bowl of salty popcorn he was already filling, but also a little bowl of caramelized sweet popcorn to eat along with it ( _Best of both worlds, Sammy_ ).

When they finally made it to Sam’s room to watch the movie on Sam’s big screen, it was nearly midnight already. They didn’t really have anything to do the other day, though, so they just flopped side by side at the head of Sam’s bed.

The movie started really slow, and although Sam really appreciated French Art, he couldn’t help but let his mind wonder once again. _Tomorrow_ , Dean had said. Well, ‘tomorrow’ would end in exactly twenty minutes. Not that he was counting or anything. He was just… starting to feel really hopeless right now. Deep down, he still had hoped that Dean was just messing with him, but it was clear now that he really wasn’t planning on talking to him about the night before.

“Stop thinking so much, Sammy. It’s making my head ache.”

Sam muttered a curse under his breath, damning the way Dean knew him so damn well. He turned his head away from the screen and looked at his brother. The son of a bitch was smiling. Sam was suffering, suffering like a freaking street dog, and Dean, the bastard, was having fun!

Sam opened his mouth then, ready to yell at Dean for the hundredth time that day, but just bit his tongue instead, directing his gaze back to the movie.

Another five minutes passed, and Sam was actually starting to pay attention to the quick speaking French couple on the screen when Dean made an act out of reaching for the bowl Sam was holding, scooting closer on the bed and knocking his knee on Sam’s. They kept silent for another second, but then Dean sighed loudly.

Sam turned his gaze away from the screen again. “Dude, what’s up?”

“Sam,” Dean whispered, a wave of unexpected flush creeping through his neck. He seemed to refuse to look Sam in the eyes. “I think we need to talk.”

“Damn right we do.” Sam didn’t mean the harsh tone, but Dean flinched anyway. He reached out, then, putting the bowl of popcorn on the nightstand beside his bed and turning towards Dean, who was already pausing the movie. “You can start.”

At that, Dean takes a deep breath, but nodes anyway and turn towards Sam. “So,” he starts, scratching the back of his neck and looking down at the slice of mattress that separates them. He takes another breath. “I know this is gonna sound a little messed up, but first of all, I’m sorry that I kissed you yesterday.”

Sam didn’t know if it was possible, but at that moment he could swear his heart had just shrunk at least three times; it felt exactly like the Grinch’s. Dean didn’t stop talking, though, so he just tried to keep the stupid tears from escaping from the corners of his eyes and stayed still.

“I wasn’t planning on doing it. I guess I just got a little carried away by the things we said.”

Sam managed to keep his voice somehow steady. “So what you’re saying is that you regret it?”

“Well, yeah, but-“

“You’re an asshole.” Sam wanted to punch Dean. Again.

“Excuse me?”

“You _are_! You don’t get to kiss your brother and pretend like nothing happened the other day just to end up telling me you didn’t mean it! That’s not how things work, Dean. You can’t simply say that you got ‘carried away’ and then expect things to be okay, because they aren’t!”

“I’m sorry, Sammy.”

“You don’t get to say that too!”

Sam was straight up yelling now, and Dean answered with the same tone. “What do you want from me, then?”

Sam ignored the question, his anger taking control of his speech, his whole body now shaking with it. “Did you even stop to think about how _I_ would feel about it? Because the great Dean Winchester is allowed to mess things up with me, but who cares about what _Sammy_ feels, right?”

“Sam, I didn’t mean it that-“

“I know! I know you didn’t! But you always do that! You don’t really care about me, you only care about you!”

Dean only sighed. “That’s not true, and you know it.”

Of course Sam knew it, but he was just so angry! He wanted to act like he didn’t care that Dean was taking back the kiss (the kisses!), he wanted to pretend it was fine. Most of all, he wanted to _not have_ to pretend, he wanted to just stop feeling like that. He couldn’t, though, so he just did what he could, and spilled everything on his brother’s face. “You ever think that maybe I wanted that? Do you realize how much I waited for that moment that now you’re saying you regret? You asked if you could kiss me, Dean! I said yes! I _wanted_ that! I _want_ that!”

Dean looked like he was about to cry. “Sam-”

“No! Don’t touch me! Do you know how many times I dreamed about kissing you? Do you know how much I missed of my life because I didn’t want to be with anyone else until I was, I don’t know, twenty! Because I hoped that you’d realize you wanted me too and be my first?! I’ve chosen you every time, I chose _you_ over the life I always wanted to have, I chose you over Amelia, I chose to live with you, hunt with you, I gave up everything for you!”

“I know! Sam, I know you did!”

“Then you must know that you can’t expect me to be okay right now. You can’t expect for things to be like before now that I know how it feels to be with you like I dreamed about for my entire life. You can’t-”

“Sam,” Dean interrupted, grabbing Sam’s wrists midair and holding him down when he sensed Sam was about to get up and leave. “Would you please listen to me for a second?”

Sam’s body felt one hundred times heavier, his eyes burn like they were on fire, and all he wanted to do was leave, go away from Dean, go away from everything. But Dean was strong, and his hold on Sam’s wrist felt like iron.

Sam made the mistake to look into his brother’s eyes, and for a second it felt like a spell. Dean was crying, and that always had a force on Sam’s will, making him stop and want to hold his brother tight against his chest. Even though Sam’s chest now felt like everything had just exploded from within, the need to make the tears stop falling from his brother’s stupidly bright eyes hit him with the same monstrous force.

“I don’t want things to be like before.” Dean started again, so softly Sam was positive he wouldn’t understand if he hadn’t seen his brother’s lips moving with his words. “But I _do_ regret kissing you, and I _wasn’t_ planning on doing it, and I _did_ get carried away.”

Sam scoffed. “Yeah, I got that the first time, thanks.”

“No, you stupid Sasquatch, you didn’t get _any_ of it. I regret the way I kissed you, not the fact that I kissed you. Hell, I’ve been wanting that my whole life, Sam. I didn’t want to push you into this, I didn’t want to mess things up with you. I wanted to have this conversation with you before, I wanted to make you sure you understood what I feel for you before touching you that way. Because I know it’s messed up, I know I’m not supposed to want you like I do. But I do.”

“Dean…”

Dean shook his head and let go of Sam’s wrists. “Let me finish.” He pleaded, whipping furiously at the tears wetting his cheeks. “I took you to that place because I wanted to tell you all of this, and then I was going to leave. I wanted you to know, because when I thought you’d died again, I realized you _deserved_ to know. Even if you hated me after that. I _was_ ready to leave, if you wanted me to, after all.”

“I would never-”

“I know that now. Thank you for letting me know how you feel too, Sammy. I’m sorry for making you think I was rejecting you. I would never do that, you know that, right?”

Sam nodded, feeling his chest fill up with something he failed to describe. He smiled through the tears that managed to escape his eyes, and whipped at them feeling suddenly very light. “Why did you wait so long to tell me all that? Do you know how difficult it was to sit still the entire ride home thinking you didn’t care?”

Dean chuckled. “I’m sorry, baby. I just thought you needed space.”

“Well, I didn’t.”

“I’m sorry.” Dean said again, returning his gaze to the screen where the movie was still paused on some freaky ass deformed picture. “Hm, Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I tell you something?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“I hate this movie.”

Sam laughed so hard his head were spinning. “Me too.”


	9. All my life (I've been waiting for you).

They agreed on changing the movie to some new Marvel flick both of them had already watched at least three times, but enjoyed it like it was the first.

Robert Downey Jr. was currently kicking some bad guy’s ass when Dean knocked his shoulder against Sam’s. “Hey.” He said, and Sam looked at him with a smile on his face.

Sam actually hadn’t stopped smiling for a long time. Since the moment Dean had said he wanted Sam like that as well, to be more exact. They silently agreed they didn’t need to do anything about it right now, since they obviously didn’t want to mess things up, but Sam couldn’t help feeling a little nervous nonetheless.

“Hey.” He replied.

Dean was smiling as well. Seeing someone else fighting against evil always put him in a good mood. That wasn’t the reason of his smile today, though, and Sam thought he would lost himself in the crinkles around his brother’s eyes for a moment, but Dean didn’t let him think about it too much. “Can I hold your hand?”

At that, Sam’s heart made a loud noise inside his chest, beating so fast he thought Dean – with his hand outstretched palm up on his tight – would probably be able to hear it too. Taking a big breath, Sam reached out a placed his hand over Dean’s.

Suddenly, Sam felt small.

Touching Dean’s hand like that felt exactly like it did when he was a kid. Sam felt like a little boy again, craving the contact from the person that were his brother, his parent, and his best friend, all at once… at the same time, though, it made him feel like the most powerful man in the world, his insides bubbling with warmth, heat pooling softly in his abdomen.

As Dean closed his fingers around his, holding tight and making it clear that he wasn’t letting it go anytime soon, Sam had to take another deep breath, trying to keep his feelings from spilling out and flooding everything.

They kept watching the movie, and Dean started drawing little circles on Sam’s hand with his thumb. Sam thought this time his heart was actually going to explode. He thought about how Dean always asked before touching him, and even if he’s one hundred percent sure he would never be able to deny anything he brother wanted, it was nice to know he cared that much.

He also felt suddenly a little sad when thinking about how sweet it would have been if Dean were actually his first. He wished he could go back in time. If he knew Dean would somehow feel that way about him someday, Sam would have waited. He would wait his entire life for Dean.

Still, Sam tried to focus on the now, watching Tony Stark parade around the city in his shiny suit, Dean right by his side, holding his hand like High School sweethearts.

Suddenly, life was good.

 

***

 

When the movie ends and Dean has to let go of Sam’s hand to get the remote, Sam tries desperately to think about some lame ass excuse to ask Dean to stay. His mattress isn’t the best, and his bed isn’t so big, but he doesn’t want to let Dean go. He also doesn’t think he’s going to able to sleep that night, not after everything Dean had said.

Sam couldn’t think of anything, though, and they started to gather the bowls and take them back to the kitchen.

Dean was smiling the entire way, reciting lines from the movie, but when they got to the door at Sam’s room, he stopped. Sam stuffed his hands on the pockets of his jeans, then, suddenly feeling 18 all over again. He was two seconds away from asking Dean to stay a bit more when his brother stepped closer, putting both his hands on Sam’s hips.

"This is how I planned for things to go with you." He said, his hands travelling up and down on Sam’s torso. “I wanted to be sure we were on the same page before making a move.”

Sam smiled, leaning gently against the wall and pulling Dean with him. “It’s okay. I understand.”

“So you’re not gonna freak out if I kiss you right now, right?”

Sam didn’t even need answer, but nodded yes anyway, and just like that Dean was kissing him like they're the only two people still alive in the world, holding his hips and pressing Sam against the wall like Sam might want to scape if he doesn't hold him firm enough. Sam clearly didn’t want to, but when he opened his mouth and kissed back, licking his brother's lips and welcoming his tongue around his own, Dean kept pinning him on the wall and holding on for dear life.

For a moment, Sam thinks he might as well combust from within.

Dean breaks the kiss as gently as he began, softly sealing their mouths once again, and chuckling lightly to himself while squeezing Sam's hips one more time before fully pulling apart. The smile on Sam's face was almost painful, and Dean put his thumb on one of Sam's dimples, cupping his hand around his jaw.

"We still need to talk..." He says, pressing his lips on Sam's cheekbones and holding, allowing Sam to calm his breath and try to act like a 33 year old 6'4" giant of a man, rather than like a 15 year old teenage girl.

"Yeah." Sam mumbled in reply, searching Dean's lips again and kissing him, despite agreeing that they had more to talk about. Dean kissed back just the same, holding Sam's head this time, and making the kiss deeper, hotter, longer.

Dean is the one to break the kiss again. "Sam."

"I know, I know, we have to talk."

"We do." He chuckled again, letting Sam go completely and taking a step back. Sam felt like a hot mess, still plastered against the wall, and knowing just from feeling that Dean had messed up his hair when he'd tangled his fingers there during the kiss. "Do you wanna do this now, or-"

"Yeah. I mean, now would be good." 

Dean didn't seem like he was going to regret that kiss also, but Sam wanted to make sure anyway. He wasn't letting Dean go to bed and think it over again, just to wake up the next morning and start pretending not had happened. He was afraid Dean would really regret it this time, that's why he wanted to really make sure they were on the same page here, and were both set on the same agreements. If they weren't, Sam was willing to let it all go, in order to keep their brotherhood intact, and he would fight for it with all he got. He didn't really think Dean would let anything come between them as brothers, though, so he wasn't exactly worried. Nervous, yeah, but not afraid.

Anxious, actually. That was exactly what Sam was feeling as he tried to put his hair back in place while Dean looked at him seeming expectant.

"Do you wanna go somewhere to talk?" Dean asked, holding up his hand so Sam could take it. Sam tried not to smile like an idiot when he placed his hand over Dean's and he tugged at it, pulling Sam closer.

"Not really. I think it's safer if we just stay here."

"Do you wanna come in on my room, then?"

Sam tried to say, _yeah, that would be nice_ , but only managed to nod before Dean pulled him further down on the hallway to his room.

*

When they first moved to the Men of Letters' bunker, it took Sam a long while to start calling in home. No one could blame him, really, because even though he had a house in which he lived with Jess for a while, and Amelia's house after that, Sam never really had a _home_. That's why he thought it was weird the way Dean had decorated his walls with weapons and amulets (the only things he really got to call his), that's why it took Sam a really long time to stop thinking how odd it was to walk into Dean's room and see pictures of him, of their family, on Dean's nightstand. Dean, unlike Sam, had a place where he felt safe as a child, even if it was for such a short period of time, and Sam thought that was why he was so quick to make himself at home at the bunker.

As time passed and nothing had changed at the bunker, no one had found it or tried to attack them, Sam started to feel more at ease at the place, and that's when he realized it had nothing to do with knowing a place to call home when you were three years old. It was about feeling safe between four walls and a roof, it was about not having to worry about something coming and reaping your brother away while you're asleep (even though he had disappeared from under your nose that one time when he managed to turn himself into a demon). It was about having said brother with you within arm's reach, knowing he were fine and happy, sleeping on his memory foam mattress and listening to freaking Axl Rose screaming on his headphones so loud you could make out perfectly the words to _My Michelle_ from your own room, three doors down in the hallway.

So when Dean tugged at his hand one more time and closed the door behind them, Sam looked at Dean's weapons and amulets with a fond smile, trying not to laugh when he saw one of his _Harry Potter_ books half hidden away under an old stash of _Busty Asian Beauties_ on Dean's nightstand.

While Sam made his way to the chair beside the bed, Dean took off the Dead Man's robe and climbed on the bed, sitting right in front of Sam. Underneath it, he was wearing a loose white shirt that was probably Sam's… and, don’t get him wrong, Dean had done it more times than any of them could count, but right now Sam wished he didn't. It wasn't that he didn't like it, far from that actually. He was just a little worried he wasn’t going to be able to control his urge to yank it off Dean's chest, because although they both seemed to be pretty much ok with all the kissing thing,  Sam didn’t want to push the boundaries too much.

One thing he couldn’t deny, though: he was feeling pathetic. He always thought that if some day, in a hypothetical scenario, he and Dean were to be together like this, it was going to be nothing like things were going right now. He thought they would be all over each other, that the tension that were building around them for years would just explode and he wasn't going to be able to hold it, and both of them would end up burned.

He wasn't sure Dean's way of doing things weren't burning just the same, though... He actually suspected it was worse, not only burning from the explosion, but scalding slowly from inside.

"So." Sam said, brushing his hair out of his face before stuffing his hands back on his pockets. Dean's smile had disappeared, and he was now looking at Sam like he was trying to decipher everything without having to ask a single question. Sam cleared his throat and tried again, leaning on the chair and placing his elbows on his knees, so his face were close enough Dean could lean in and capture his lips, or lean back and stay away, if he wanted. He started again. "So, huh... w-we kissed."

"Well, yeah, that part is settled, college boy."

Sam chuckled nervously. "No, of course, yeah. So, you're not regretting it this time, right?"

"I didn't regret it the first time, man. I just wanted it to be different."

"So you really don't regret any of it?" Sam just wanted to be sure, leave him alone.

Dean just rolled his eyes, leaned in and kissed Sam's lips gently, pulling away before Sam could kiss him back. "I said I want it, Sam."

Sam's heart leaped like it had when Dean said the same thing a couple of hours ago. He felt like he was repeating himself, but he also felt the need to hear everything all over again, loud and clear, to make sure he didn't got anything wrong. That was the purpose of this conversation, after all, clearing it all up.

"Dean," he said then, not able to hold back the feeling creeping inside his chest. "Are you sure about that? Because it can be tricky, y'know? Maybe you think you're feeling a certain way, because you were afraid you were going to lose me for a moment." Dean looked like he was going to interrupt, but Sam didn't let him, the words springing out of his mouth in a rush. "I'm not gonna be mad if you want to take it all back, but you have to do this now. There's no going back from that if we keep on this path. You can't just suddenly wake up and decide you don't want this anymore. Do you understand that? If you're not ready for this, please let's just let it go. I don't want to mess up our relationship because of it, it could get ugly, it could get us killed!"

Dean waited for Sam to finish his tantrum, just looking intently at him and listening, nodding but not saying a word. When Sam stopped talking, feeling a heavy weight on his shoulders, Dean narrowed his eyes and locked his gaze with Sam's. "I'm gonna say it just one more time, so listen carefully, ok?”

Sam nodded. “Yes.”

“I want it. I'm sure. I want you."

Once again, Sam nodded. He didn’t know if the air inside Dean’s bedroom had become thinner all of a sudden, but somehow he was having trouble breathing normally.

Taking pity, Dean outstretched his hand. "Come here."

Sam gulped, standing up faster than he would like to admit, stepping in between Dean's separated knees and standing awkwardly for a moment, not sure what he was supposed to do. He looked down and Dean was looking at him with a little smile, so Sam just reached up and touched the back of his head, fisting his fingers in Dean's short strands. Dean replied by leaning forward and, pushing Sam's shirt out of the way, pressed his lips on Sam's belly, holding him by his hips again and kissing his stomach lightly.

Sam forced himself not to moan at Dean's sweet gesture, and just moved his hand in a caress on his hair. 

Dean smiled against Sam’s belly. "I used to do this when you were a baby, you know?" He said then, his hands going up Sam's sides just a little under his shirt. There was nothing particularly sexual in his movements, but Sam could feel the warmth slowly spreading in his lower abdomen, liquid heat burning everything inside.

"Yeah?" He said, unable to say much more, and probably making a fool of himself.

"Yeah. You couldn't be more than three, and you would giggle and call me Dee, and ask me to stop because it tickled."

Sam smiled at the way Dean talked about the memory. He didn't remember any of it, obviously, but he could picture being a toddler and calling Dean 'Dee', because he actually never really stopped calling him that.

"Good thing it doesn't tickle anymore" he whispered then, smiling fond at Dean, who was now looking back at him, his hands still on Sam's hips.

"Come here." Dean said again, pulling Sam down to straddle his thighs, his hands moving up as Sam moved down, pushing his shirt far up on his chest.

Sam's heart felt like it was going to jump out of his mouth at any moment.

"How long?" Dean asked, pulling Sam's shirt all the way up and pushing it off of his body. 

Sam waited for him to set the shirt aside before answering. "All my life." He said quietly, feeling Dean gently kiss his now naked shoulders. "It started when I was fifteen, but really, it was always you."

Dean groaned, pulling Sam's chin down for a kiss. Dean kissed like Sam was air and they were drowning, desperately holding at his hair and his waist, always like Sam was going to suddenly regret and try to pull away, even though Dean was the only one who (kind of) regretted things between them. 

When they pulled apart again, Sam couldn't fight against the urge to explore Dean's face, and he moved his lips to Dean's strong bearded jaw, licking his cheeks and enjoying the feel of his stubble against his tongue. "And you?" He asked, voice muffled against Dean's skin. "How long has it been for you?"

"Just after you left." Dean said simply, kneading the strong muscles on Sam's ribs and leaning his head back, so Sam could kiss every part of his neck. Sam felt a painful spot on his chest light up at Dean's words. He had secretly expected Dean to say it had always been this way for him as well, but before he could voice any of it, Dean kept on talking. "I wouldn't forgive myself if I had ever thought about you in any other way before that, y'know? You were my pain in the ass little brother and I had to protect you. I never saw you as anything more than that, because I loved you like a son. I clothed you, fed you, bathed you, I changed your diapers… That's why it was so hard when you left. I missed you so much, Sammy."

"I missed you too. I'm sorry, Dean."

Dean kissed him again, making Sam forget whatever he was going to say. "That's ok, it was a long time ago" he whispered in reply. "I know why you did it and I'm not mad anymore."

Sam nodded as Dean kissed his cheek. He smiled at the gesture, but then remembered what they were talking about. "So, how did you realize- you know?"

"That I wanted you?" Dean vocalized what Sam failed to say out loud. He felt his cheeks warm up, feeling pathetic again, but Dean was smiling. "Like I said, after you left. I was miserable, y'know? I started seeing you everywhere, and I wanted so bad to go and chase you, bring you back home and make you stay."

"I would. You realize that, right? I would, if you had."

Dean smiled again, pecking Sam on the lips quickly. "Yeah, now I know."

Sam didn't want to interrupt Dean again, but he couldn't help but lean down and catch his brother's lips, deepening the kiss and managing to shove his hands under Dean's shirt and yank it off his chest.

Once again, Dean chuckled against Sam's lips, helping him take off his own shirt and then turning on the bed, making Sam lean back on the mattress. Facing Sam, Dean propped himself on one elbow, so that he got leverage enough to just lean a bit to kiss Sam without actually having to lay on top of his brother.

They kissed one more time before Dean reached a hand to run circles on Sam's belly and kept on talking. "It got to a point where I didn't just wanted to take you back, I wanted to chain you to me and never let you go. Dad said I was acting like a mad man and we had a hell of a fight. That's why I was hunting alone when he got missing. I didn't know why I was acting like that up until when I saw you again, that night. I saw you under me on the floor," Dean mimicked the memory, climbing over Sam and placing his hands either sides of his head.  "And I felt like you just had punched me in the stomach, even if I were the one pining you down. I felt defeated, and helpless, and God help me, but I’ve never felt more aroused in my life."  And then he lowered himself over Sam, locking their hips together and letting Sam feel his erection, hard and heavy against Sam’s crotch. 

That's probably when Sam lost it. He felt his own already half hard cock jump in response. Moaning like his life were slipping away from him and anchoring his arms around Dean's head, he kissed him like they would never be able to kiss again.

“God, wanted it for so long,” Dean said against Sam’s stubble, licking at his jaw and grinding their hips together painfully slow, painfully gentle, making Sam squirm underneath him. “Wanted _you_ for so long, Sam.”

It shouldn’t feel that good when they were still somehow wearing clothes - and Dean wasn’t giving any indications that he wanted to move away, even for getting rid of them - but Sam definitely wasn’t complaining. At all. The way his brother moved over him like he was trying to fuck him with his clothes on, placing his arms under Sam’s shoulders and holding tight while sucking at his mouth, made Sam arch beneath him, their cocks trapped between their bodies. He felt like he could come just from the visual of it, the way Dean breathed hard with each thrust, his hands gripping him like he was afraid Sam would leave, his hips working over Sam’s.

Dean sure as hell could make Sam feel like a teenager all the time, but humping at each other like it was the first time for both of them, at the same time, Sam felt more a man than he ever had before. Holding his brother in his arms and feeling the wetness of Dean’s cock over the friction of their clothes, Sam wanted nothing more than put his mouth around it and suck until he came on his tongue.

Dean closed his teeth on Sam’s shoulders and groaned through it. “ _Fuck_ … Sam, gonna come, gonna come…”

Thinking about it, Sam thinks it was Dean’s words that actually took him over the edge. He arched under his brother again and the orgasm hit him like a punch in the gut, listening to Dean’s growl on his ear while he came, and then fall heavy over Sam.

They stay like that for what could have been hours, Sam trying to breath under his brother’s weight, disinclined to move him even an inch off of his chest, tracing little patterns on the damp skin on Dean’s lower back and feeling him mouth and lick at his neck, slow and sweet, like a prayer.


	10. Candies and holding hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a side note: this is my personal favorite chapter so far <3 I hope you like it just as much! Lots of love <3

They sleep on Dean’s bed and wake up tangled around each other.

Sam’s trunks were decidedly gross, plastered with dry come, and he knew for a fact that Dean was probably feeling the same way when he grunted and turned to the other side. His arms were aching, because Dean had slept over them, but Sam still smiled at the image of his brother with mushed hair and face wrinkled by the pillowcase.

Sam felt the urge to stay in bed all day, but _his trunks_ _were decidedly gross_.

He grunted and then decided to go take a shower, letting Dean still asleep on his bed and going straight to the MoL’s shower room, without bringing a new set of clothes. He figures it’s not going to be much of a big deal if Dean sees him naked now that they’re… whatever they are. So he just goes and showers, internally wishing Dean would wake up already and maybe join him in the shower (a man can dream, right?), but Dean doesn’t.

Sam stayed in the shower for a long time, trying not to pop a massive boner just thinking about the night before, remembering the intensity of Dean's movements forcing his body against the mattress. His heart weighted as little as a feather, and when he walked towards his room with only a towel around his waist, he felt like his stomach were trying to turn upside down, remembering the feeling of Dean's lips against his own.

He put on his new tight jeans and a flannel, noticing just how much hungry he felt right now. He could seriously eat an entire meal, despite being only seven in the morning, but decided to go for a walk before breakfast. He needed to calm down, and think about everything that had happened the night before.

The street was empty except for the occasional car rushing past him, but Sam didn't really pay attention to any of it. His mind was focused on the conversation they had and the things Dean had said. A smile stamped Sam's face the entire time, and he felt like he could explode at any given time, but he promised himself he would play it cool around Dean and not act too much excited, just in case it wasn't that big of a deal for Dean.

Sam walked around the block for half an hour, just fluttering around and smiling at himself, feeling his heart float on his chest.

Dean liked him. Dean returned his feelings. _Dean made him come on his pants just from grinding their hips together._

Sam cursed under his breath and turned around, walking back to the bunker as fast as he could with his cock filling up in his jeans.

  
***  


Sam wasn't expecting to find Dean up and at it that early in the morning in a Saturday morning when they didn't have any hunt ahead of them. So when he entered the bunker and the smell of bacon met him at the end of the stairs, he felt his stomach growl again, demanding food. 

He could hear Dean in the kitchen, humming a song while cooking, like he always did, and for a moment he thought about going back to his room and check if his hair was properly combed and his face looked good. It was stupid, he knew that, but he couldn't help feeling that way. All of a sudden, Sam felt nervous. He felt his palms starting to sweat, and he felt ridiculous.

That was Dean! His _brother_! The one that whipped the snot from under his nose when he was a kid, the one that bathed him, fed him, raised him.

A wave of pure love crossed Sam's chest, and he whipped his hands on the back of his jeans, catching a big breath.

_It's just Dean._

In the kitchen, handling the pan with sizzling bacon, Dean was wearing a black old shirt and the oldest pair of jeans he possessed. Sam felt his heart leap in his chest.

"Hey," he said, coming closer, but staying at a polite distance, not knowing exactly how to act around Dean. He wanted to just go to him, wrap his hands around his waist and kiss the back of his neck, but managed to stay calm.

Dean tuned to Sam with a smile, said "hey" back, and placed the pan on the table. Sam flopped down on one chair, awkwardly tucking a strand of hair behind his ear, and waited. Dean finished putting the rest of the breakfast on the table (eggs, coffee, two toasts loaded with jam) and stopped beside Sam. He reached one hand and touched Sam's hair, leaning in and kissing his head. 

Sam's smile was so big he almost didn't want to eat, just so he could keep smiling.  
Dean flopped on the chair by Sam's side and started to fill his plate and Sam's, immediately digging in his eggs and bacon while Sam settled with the toasts. They didn't talk much during that time, but Sam could feel the lightness of the moment, enjoying eating in silence with his brother.

When they finished eating, Dean collected the dishes and went to wash them. Sam helped organizing the kitchen and stayed there, watching Dean handling the objects.

"So, I was thinking" Dean started to say once Sam put himself on the task of drying the dishes. "We should go buy some candy today."

Sam hummed his approval. "Yeah, I could use some chocolate today."

"Yeah, and then we could go somewhere to lunch." Dean said in a much more forced casual tone. Sam's heart started hammering on his ribcage immediately.

"Yeah" he said only, finishing the dishes and putting the towel back on its hang.  
Dean moved towards him, then, and placed his hands on both sides of Sam's hips.

"Did you sleep well last night?" He asked, leaning towards to hug Sam and resting his chin on Sam's shoulder, pressing their chests together. 

"Awesomely." Sam replied smiling, fitting his arms around his brother's neck.

Dean traced a line of feathery kisses from Sam's shoulder to his jaw, and bringing Sam's hips closer to his, closed his mouth around his brother's lips. Sam opened his mouth and let his tongue explore Dean's lips, kissing him eagerly and trying not to moan when Dean sucked his tongue inside his mouth and pulled his hands up under Sam's shirt just enough to make him shiver.

The kiss started to deepen and Dean groaned, pulling apart. "We keep this up, I'm not going to buy any candy today."

Sam chuckled. He wanted to say _fuck the damn candy_ , but he also wanted to have the date Dean had just practically asked him to, so he just pulled the rest of the way apart.

"I'm gonna go grab my wallet."

 

***  


Dean parked outside the candy store and Sam smiled at the sale signs covering all of the Halloween decoration. Dean smiled back at him and circled the car, entering the store alongside Sam.

They spent a couple of hours filling a basket and arguing about how good of an idea it was to buy an entire box of Snickers just because it was on sale. At the end, they decided for an extra package of M&M's and six little packages of Skittles they agreed to share equally. 

When they left the store and loaded the backseat with the bags and boxes full of candy, Sam's nervousness returned full force.

Dean jumped on the driver's seat and Sam mimicked his movement on the other side, only half listening to whatever it was he was saying. Dean drove them all the way to the other side of town and parked outside of a steak house. Once again, Dean circled the car, but this time he stopped before Sam could start walking towards the entrance. He reached a hand and touched Sam's hair lightly, lacing his fingers on a lose strand falling on his face, and stepped closer.

"Is that ok?" He asked, tucking the strand behind Sam's ear.

Sam nodded, his heart thumping in his chest, and Dean slid his hand over Sam's arms, stopping on Sam's hand, which he laced his fingers through and tugged, pulling Sam towards the door.

They entered the restaurant holding hands. Dean seemed entirely comfortable on his shoes, talking to the receptionist like the fact that he was entering the place holding his little brother's hand as if they were a fucking couple didn't bother him at all. 

Obviously, Sam was freaking out.

Dean tugged at Sam's hand again, noticing the way his feet seemed to stop working, and laughed a little. "Dude, relax!"

Sam gulped, squeezing Dean's hand and following him to their table. 

  
*

  
The place was considerably nicer than the ones they usually went, Sam noticed. They took a seat side by side at a table on the second floor, near the big windows that framed the place.

Dean ordered for the both of them, and as the waitress left their table, blushing at their hands still glued together, Sam felt his own face heating.

"Would you please stop?"

"Stop what?"

"Dean."

" _What_?"

"You're treating me like a girl!"

"You _are_ a girl, Samantha."

His face heated even more (with anger this time)."Stop calling me that!"

"Or what?"

"Or I'm gonna _make you_ stop."

Sam dislodged his hand from Dean's, but Dean only laughed. The waitress chose that exact moment to return to their table with their drinks.

"Can I get you anything else?" She asked, still blushing, even if they weren't holding hands anymore (and if Dean kept that up, they wouldn't do that ever again. Never ever. Sam felt pathetic).

Dean smirked at her, still laughing a little. She looked at him expectantly, and Dean raised his hand and placed it at the back of Sam's neck, squeezing softly and caressing Sam's hair. "That'll do, thank you sweetheart."

The waitress nodded, blushing even more, and left again. 

Sam turned to his brother, ready to return to their discussion, but Dean were faster. He closed the space between them and gently pressed his lips to Sam's. Sam gasped, but Dean was already pulling back, smiling at Sam and looking like he'd just won a fucking award. That managed to keep Sam quiet the entire time until the waitress came back with their order.

They also ate in silence, exchanging glances and little smiles, touching their hands casually from time to time, unable to spend more than three seconds without touching (Sam didn't feel pathetic anymore).

 

***  


"Do you wanna go for some ice cream?" Is what Dean asked as soon as they climbed back in the car outside the steak house. Sam nodded in agreement, managing not to smile like a little child (for once).

As Dean drove them to the nearest ice cream place, Sam occupied himself watching his brother's hands on the steering wheel. He'd done that a thousand times before, concentrated on the way Dean wrapped his hands around it like a caress, focused on the way he would sometimes lightly pat the dashboard and threat Baby with almost the same gentleness he used to take care of Sam himself. But this time, Sam's heart skipped a beat. He still could sense the feeling of lacing his fingers through his brother's still tingling in his fingertips, and he had to close his hands in fists to keep from reaching out when Dean rested one of his hands on the bench between them.

Sam gulped and looked outside the window just in time to see the ice cream board shining bright under the afternoon sun.

  
***

  
Inside the ice cream shop, Dean ordered for both of them again, but this time Sam didn't really pay much attention to it, focused on watching the way his big brother moved around like he had wheels on his heels. He accepted the pot with plain pistachio ice cream and he and Dean (with a gigantic bowl of strawberry ice cream topped with gummy bears and chocolate sprinkles. Sam resisted the sudden urge to hug him) took a seat outside, under the shadow of a big tree on the sidewalk.

"We should find a job." Sam said casually, scooping a big dollop of ice cream from his pot and stuffing his mouth with it, relishing in the cool of the taste and regretting it immediately when it froze his brain for a moment.

Dean laughed a little. "Should we? I thought we could take some time and just relax a little, like you said." 

Sam looked at him with tears on the corners of his eyes, and he thought for a moment that his brain was still frozen, because how the hell else would Dean Winchester be agreeing in not finding a hunt and ‘just relax’? Then he remembered that same Dean Winchester had just faked an entire job just to take Sam on _vacation_. Sam's brain freeze melted alongside his heart.

"Yeah, I mean, it could be good." He replied then, trying to sound much more casual than he felt, although he knew he failed when Dean laughed again. Sam resisted the urge to stuff his face with the rest of his ice cream, just to freeze his brain again.

"So here's how it's gonna be." Dean said, putting his bowl aside and turning to look Sam in the eye. "We take a few days to relax and catch up on the TV shows we've missed, and then after that we can choose what to do. That sounds good?"

Sam smiled, putting his empty bowl aside as well. "Yeah."

 

*  


Once again, they walked back to the car. This time, though, Dean stopped midway to the driver's seat and returned.

"I think you should drive." He said then, handing Sam the keys. 

Sam managed not to gasp out loud and got the keys. "Are you kidding me?"

Dean looked back at him with a smirk. "Do I look like I'm kidding?"

Sam wanted to say yes, but decided against it. Instead, he circled the car towards the driver's seat and jumped inside.

Driving Dean's car were always one of Sam's favorite things to do. He didn't always got the chance, though, mostly because Dean was too protective of Baby to really let anyone drive her, but also because driving Sam around was one of Dean's duties since the day he turned 18 and dad gave him the Impala. So, yeah, Sam was a little more than surprised when Dean himself handed him the keys and said he should drive, but like hell he was going to complain.

They were already almost halfway towards the bunker when Dean spoke again. "Do you think you can manage not to destroy my car if I do something real quick?"

Sam kept his gaze intently on the road, too focused on doing absolutely everything right to really pay attention to anything else. Dean was probably going to open up one of the boxes they bought earlier and steal some candy, so Sam just shrugged and applied extra attention on the road. He felt Dean moving on his side of the bench and turning, probably to get the box from the backseat. Except that Dean wasn't really trying to reach the boxes. Instead, he reached to Sam and touched his thigh with an impossibly warm hand, sending a wave of pure heat through Sam's body.

This time, he gasped audibly.

"Eyes on the road" Dean said softly, scooping closer and attaching his lips to the exposed side of Sam's neck. Sam moaned quietly, unable not to, as Dean opened his mouth and let his tongue slide hotly on Sam's skin.

Dean moved his hand from Sam's thigh to his stomach, sliding it slightly under his shirt and caressing gently while moving his mouth down his shoulders. Sam felt Dean's other hand join the one on his stomach and play lightly with his belt. He drew in a big breath, his cock jumping inside his jeans, and the sudden urge to pull over and kiss Dean became unbearable. 

"Stay still." Dean whispered before Sam could do anything, his hands heavy on Sam's belt buckle.

Sam moaned again, filthily this time, feeling his cock grow impossibly hard against his underwear. 

"Sammy, can I?"

Sam's heart leaped again in his chest for what felt like the thousandth time. "Fuck, Dean, yes, yes."

Dean whispered, _fuck_ , against Sam's skin, his hands suddenly working desperately on Sam's belt. It was like he were just waiting for Sam's permission before and was about to go crazy.

Sam focused on the road again, one of his hands flying instantaneously to the back of Dean's head, his fingers pushing through his hair as Dean's hands opened his fly and continued to murmur under his breath.

"Fuck -Sammy, want you so bad, _fuck_."

Sam just moaned again, unable to say anything else, feeling Dean wrap his lips around the length of Sam's cock from over his underwear. Dean's mouth was hot, wet, and his hair was so, so soft between Sam's fingers. Sam felt Dean leave a wet trail of saliva on his boxers, and for a moment he dared to glance down from the road, and his eyes caught the exact moment when Dean took out Sam’s cock and _moaned_ , wrapping his lips around the tip and sinking down. Sam returned his gaze to the road immediately, feeling his brother's mouth hot around his cock. Just the thought of it made Sam's dick twitch, and Dean moaned again, his voice vibrating through Sam's body and making him whimper, his fingers closing around Dean's hair.

Sam had to hold back from coming too soon.

Dean dislodged his mouth from Sam's cock with a wet pop and looked up. Sam managed to stay still for the exact length of one second before pulling over to the side and pulling Dean to a kiss, licking hungrily at his lips and moaning against his mouth.

Dean wrapped his hands around Sam's cock and started pumping up and down while still kissing him. Sam felt his heart beating so fast on his chest that he was surprised it didn't just reap open suddenly.

Dean started again to blabber nonsense against Sam's lips. _Of course_ he was a talker. Sam shuddered between his arms, his heart so warm and his hips so hot it was almost unbearable.

"Sam, Sammy... So pretty, wanted you for so long- oh fuck..."

Sam captured Dean's lips again, shutting him up and starting to fuck his closed fist, his hips working involuntarily. Dean still managed to moan against Sam's mouth again before pulling back and lowering himself towards Sam's dick one more time, swallowing him down in one smooth movement.

Sam held himself back from fucking up against Dean's mouth, scared to hurt him, but Dean still had a hand heavy on his stomach, holding his hips down as he worked intently on Sam's cock. Once again, Dean pulled back and looked up, but this time Sam was looking directly at him. His eyes were wide and shiny, and Sam wanted more than ever to just hold him and never let go. In a fraction of second, though, his eyes went from big and impossibly green to dark and lusty, pupils blown wide. 

"You can come on my mouth." Dean whispered. He then proceeded to display his tongue for Sam to aim for.

That made Sam immediately close his hand around Dean's on his cock to help him with the pumping motion, precome sliding from Sam's dick in big dollops.

Dean moaned again, his tongue still on display for Sam, and he got suddenly punched with the strong desire to run the pads of his fingers on his brother's stretched tongue, but Dean's other hand fled from Sam's stomach to his own groin. All of a sudden, his entire body started shaking on the bench, his back arched prettily and his voice started coming in growls that Dean tried to muffle against Sam's stomach.

Dean was coming just from sucking Sam off, and that was enough to pull Sam over the edge. His hand worked harder, still holding Dean's over his cock, and the wave of the orgasm hit him like a punch in the gut. Dean closed his lips around the head of Sam's dick again, and Sam kept on coming on his brother's mouth, feeling Dean swallowing while still shuddering from his own orgasm.

Sam let his head fall back against the seat, his chest raising up and down, watching with heavy lidded eyes as Dean rested his forehead on his hips and feeling more than seeing him lick his lips. The visual was almost enough to make him hard again, but Sam felt completely wasted. 

He tugged gently at Dean's hair and pulled him up towards his chest, kissing softly at his swollen lips and stealing little breaths from Dean's still weak breathing.

*

Sam and Dean Winchester were both very fond of candy when growing up. Peanut M&M's were always Dean's favorite, while Sam usually preferred Skittles. Their dad used to come home with both Skittles (the original one, always the original) and peanut M&M's as a peace offering every time a hunt make him stay away particularly long. (Later in life, they would learn their father was actually with his other family, probably going to baseball games with their half-brother Adam, and bringing home to his two oldest sons gifts bought on the gas station on the way back). Opposed to Dean, as Sam got older, his eating habits changed from McChicken and coke almost on a daily basis, to salad and the occasional beer, but the habit of stuffing their faces with candy from time to time didn't change in the slightest. Of course, in times like these, when they had things like The Darkness to worry about, the chances to relax and eat candies were considerably fewer, but they managed anyway.

That's why both Sam and Dean set themselves on the task of splitting their new acquired candy into two mostly equal piles (Dean's with an extra pack of Peanut M&M's while Sam's had an extra pack of Skittles) as soon as Sam drove them the rest of the way back to the bunker.

After that, they would usually grab the piles and head each to their own room and shove the candies somewhere hidden from the other, just in case (candy was obviously a serious matter for both of them). Today, though, they agreed on letting the candy on the kitchen's table and Sam pulled Dean to the library instead.


	11. Everything I asked for, and so much more.

Sam watched his reflex in the mirror for what felt like the hundredth time that week. It's not like he expected to see anything different, but he did feel different, even if it didn't show on his exterior.

If you asked him a week ago how he felt about his brother, Sam could list just about a handful of things about how Dean Winchester was and would always be the most important person in his life. He could also list you just about every single thing Dean did that would make him feel happy, angry, loved, protected, safe... The way his brother moved around him on a hunt, the way he would always put himself in front of Sam, the way he would always make sure he ate and was getting enough sleep... Now, however, if you asked the exact same question, Sam would probably struggle with the answer. Not because those things had become untrue, but because it meant so much more now. The way Dean wrapped his hands around Sam's neck and the feeling of his brother's hips digging into his, the way Dean kissed him, the way he tugged at Sam's hair and the feeling of Dean's tongue against his own.

Abandoning his reflex, Sam jumped on his bed and let his thoughts drift away, trying not to think about how Dean's hands felt around his shoulders or the feeling of his stubble scratching his face, and failing miserably. Not that he minded anyway. 

He slept for what felt like the majority of the afternoon, but woke up startled when the sound of the front door slamming reverberated through the walls all the way to his room.

Grabbing his knife under the pillow, Sam ran to the main room, but found no one. He was about to run towards Dean's room to check on him when he found a note on the desk. 

_"Went to do some stuff in town. Don't know how long I'll be out. D"_

Sam balled the note and flopped on one of the chairs around the table. Sam was planning on spending the rest of the day with his arms around Dean’s neck. What was he supposed to do now that Dean didn’t know how much he would stay out?

Sitting there alone, Sam started to think about everything. Now, he was well aware that they said that an idle mind is the devil’s workshop, but Sam couldn’t help it. He imagined what it would feel like to crumple Dean's head like he had just done to the stupid note he left. What did he mean by 'do some stuff', anyway? Usually, 'do some stuff' was code to 'chasing after girls'. Sam felt his heart sink inside his chest.

Thumping his forehead against the table, Sam let out a little laugh that had absolutely nothing to do with humor. 

Didn’t the night before mean they were going to be together? Together, as in _exclusive_.

Sam wasn’t stupid. He knew that to expect Dean to commit himself to one person only wasn’t usually an easy task, especially after Lisa and Ben, but somehow Sam had expected more. Is not like they talked specifically about it, though, so Sam REALLY couldn't expect anything from Dean anyway.

Sam felt absolutely miserable.

He knew he was probably overreacting, but walked back to his room and slammed the door closed anyway, absolutely aware that the movement made him look like a four-year-old, but not giving any shits at the moment. 

Hiding under the covers, he expected to fall asleep like he'd done earlier, but Morpheus wasn't that kind to him this time. He watched the numbers on his alarm clock shine faintly in the dark, the minutes passing painfully slow. 

He heard Dean coming back to the bunker just one hour later, and knock lightly at his door. Sam wasn't sleeping, and it was only eight p.m., but when Dean opened the door to his room, he stayed perfectly still, as if he were asleep. He knew Dean must have known Sam was awake, but when he just called softly and didn't really enter the room, Sam knew his brother wouldn't push either. When Dean closed the door again, with a gentle click, though, Sam wished he pushed. Sam wished Dean made him talk. Sam wanted to tell him how hurt he felt, how fucked up it was to go on a date with him and then leave a note - a fucking note, god! - saying he was off to fuck someone else.

He felt hurt, and betrayed, and alone.

  
***

 

When Sam woke up the next morning, his eyes were puffy and he felt like a ghost. He had made a decision, though: he wasn't gonna let Dean’s assholery affect him like that. He wasn't a little boy anymore, and he sure as hell wasn't going to beg for attention like he did when they were younger.

So, when he left his room that morning, he went to a run and didn't come back to eat breakfast with Dean, like he always did. He went to a cafe instead, had a croissant and a cappuccino, and then went for a walk in the nearest park.

He managed to arrange all his feelings in a row inside his head, and took a long time analyzing every single one of them individually. He was still kind of hurt, right, but he had definitely had the time to cool off on his anger. It was obvious he was overreacting. Maybe Dean was really just _doing some stuff_. He did come back pretty early, which wasn't likely of him to do after a hook up.

So, Sam felt a little bit like an idiot for overreacting, but even though Sam had agreed to himself not to be mad at Dean for something he didn't even know had happened, he decided not to jump head first into things with his brother. He knew there was no way to take back everything they'd already done together, but slowing things down a little bit couldn’t hurt. 

Of course Sam always gave 100% of himself in everything he did, but when it came to Dean, everything was magnified; more meaningful, more dangerous, more thrilling, and definitely more painful. He didn't think Dean would hurt him intentionally, keeping Sam safe was a setting very well programmed into Dean's brain for him to do so, but he still couldn't help the feeling that he would get hurt anyway. There was no other way out of this, every path lead through thorns.

  
***

  
"Where the fuck have you been? Why didn't you answer your goddamn phone?"

Dean was pissed, that much was clear.

Sam totally didn't flinch under the yelling, no way was he afraid of his big brother.

"I went for a run-"

"A FOUR HOUR run? Are you kidding me?" Dean yelled at Sam's face, the tips of his freckled ears turning pink with heat. "Why didn't you answer the damn phone?" He repeated, sounding even angrier, which surprised Sam a whole lot more than scared; he didn't think it was possible for Dean to get more pissed, but he guessed there was always room for more anger inside Dean Winchester ( _poor thing,_ _bless his soul_ ).

"Would you let me answer?" Sam asked, but knew immediately that, _no_ , Dean wouldn't.

"Now you want to answer? What about four hours ago when I woke up and you weren't here? What about when I searched everywhere and didn't found even a fucking note? Did you forget how to leave a fucking message?"

"Cut it out, dude, I'm not a kid, you don't have to yell at me for breaking curfew."

Dean's entire face was red, and his eyebrows were so drawn together Sam honestly thought they would merge in the middle. "Well, then you should fucking stop acting like a brat! It's not cute anymore, Sam! Where the hell have you been?"

"I was out! I don't need to report to you every time I go somewhere!" Sam shouted finally, patience running away from his fingers like sand. 

Dean's eyes hooded, and he looked at Sam like Sam had just slapped him in the face. "Of course you don't-", he tried to say, but Sam had had enough.

"I don't need your permission to leave the house, Dean! You don't fucking get to decide what I do! You're just my brother, you're not my owner!"

Dean nodded in agreement, but said nothing. Sam regretted his words immediately, but didn't say anything either.

Dean got the car keys from the table between them and left without another glancing towards his brother.

  
*

 

Dean didn't return to the bunker for lunch, and didn't come back in time for dinner either. 

Sam felt worse than a bag of trash. Nothing could wash away the feeling, not even the handful of showers he'd taken trying to _literally_ wash it away.

Sam liked to think that he had turn into a pretty decent adult human being, somewhere along the way between killing vampires and dating hot demon chicks, but it still surprised him how much of a moron he could be around his brother. He'd tried to repress that behavior ever since all that mess with Dean turning into a demon and fucking Metatron, but sometimes Dean just pushed his buttons. _All of them, all at once_. It was hard to keep himself from acting a little over the top when all his feelings were bubbling like that, because no matter how many times they'd yell at each other, no matter how many ugly fights they'd have, Sam's feelings for Dean would ALWAYS be all over the place. It was just like that, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Now, Sam could try and apologize, and he knew he would have to, at some point, but right now all he could think about was hiding inside his bedroom and wait for the shame to cool down a little so he could at least look Dean in the face, for starters.

He didn't do any of that, though. He was in the library, trying not to worry too much about where Dean could have been, waiting for his cup noodles to get ready (let him be, ok? It's not like he cared about eating healthy when he and Dean fought, anyway. He had other priorities, like denying crying like an overly grown and extremely ugly little girl) when he heard Dean's heavy footsteps down the metal stairs. 

Sam tried not to flinch at the sound of his brother walking straight to his own room and closing the door infuriatingly quietly. As he removed the lid of cup noodle and dig in with just about zero enthusiasm, he felt a little knot in his chest untying itself. He wasn't going to admit just how much worried he felt that Dean had spent so much time away, but he knew that was no hiding it from himself. He put the empty cup down and seriously thought about banging his head on the table, just for the heck of it, but he got up instead and went for yet another shower. He figured while it didn't help make him feel any better about what he did, it wouldn't hurt either. He also kind of expected to drown himself under the spray of water, but wasn't very hopeful; nothing ever worked the way he wanted anyway.

  
***  
  
Seeing Dean parade around the bunker and not getting any closer was making Sam seriously miserable. 

He had woken that morning to the smell of Burberry pancakes (his favorite, _dammit_ ), and for a moment he really let himself forget what he said the day before, but when he got to the kitchen and found just a plate of awesome pancakes and absolutely no Dean, his stomach turned upside down. He sat at the kitchen table and ate the pancakes anyway (it really was his favorite); they tasted perfect, and Sam seriously thought about stuffing his face with it just to see if he could choke himself and avoid having to apologize.

Dean's subtle sweetness was killing him! Sam wanted him to yell again, or treat him coldly, or to just punch him in the face already and get it over with, but it wasn't like Dean to end things so easily, of course not. Instead, Dean made him lunch, focused on curling himself on that one gigantic chair in the library and burying his nose on a copy of The Return of the King, sipping from his mug of whiskey-spiked coffee and decidedly not looking at Sam. Not even once.

At first, Sam thought Dean was trying to teach him a lesson. You know, all that 'killing with kindness' jam. As the day went through, though, Sam realized with a literal gasp that Dean was only giving him space. Sitting at the extreme opposite side of the library with that book he started reading back in the farm last week, Sam felt his eyes watering at the sight of his brother intently reading, probably fascinated yet another time by Aragorn leading the army at the gates of Mordor.

Sam didn’t think he ever felt more of an idiot than he was feeling now.

He whipped his eyes and looked back at his book, feeling his heart so heavy inside his chest he actually thought he was having some kind of heart attack. It only got worse when Dean closed his book with a thud, and Sam jumped on his chair, startled by the noise.

"Jesus" he muttered under his breath, putting a hand over his heart, thumping like crazy.

"Jesus indeed" Dean said, putting the book away and staring at Sam.  
Sam's ears started to get warm immediately under the gaze. He dared stare back at Dean for a second, and felt the heat spread to his shoulders like spilled milk on the kitchen table.

"Look, dude, I'm trying to give you time and all, and I'm keeping it cool, but you gotta stop looking at me like that if you don't want me to get really really pissed, ok?"

Sam felt a little daring, a little confused, and a whole lot embarrassed. "What are you talking about?"

"What am I...? Sam, could you make up your mind already?"

"What?"

Dean laughed bitterly and got up, his nostrils flaring with anger all over again. "Dude, I can't do things right if you don't fucking tell me what the hell is it that you want from me! You wanted space, I'm giving you space! If you want me to go away, then I'll go! But you have to tell me! It's killing me sitting here and not being able to do anything!"

"Go away? Dean, what the hell do you-"

"I'm sorry that I made a move on you the other day, ok? I didn't realize you didn't want it like that, I thought- fuck, I thought we were on the same page, Sam, I'm so fucking sorry..."

At Dean's words, Sam got up as well, feeling his heart beat so fast he was afraid for a moment it would rip his ribcage apart. "Fuck, Dean, sit down, ok? Stay calm."

Dean did. He sunk in the chair again, eyes wide and impossibly greener, his fingers grabbing blindly at the armchairs.

"I'm sorry" Dean said again, looking up like he thought Sam was a ghost.

"Stop apologizing, what the hell!" Sam said, pinching the bridge of his nose and feeling a headache forming under his eyes. "I swear I have no idea what you're talking about."

Dean looked away. "I'm talking about touching you on the way back from the city two days ago."

Sam didn't know his mind could get more confused after an explanation. "What about that?"

"I didn't realize I was stepping over the boundaries," Dean said, looking back at Sam with an unreadable expression. "When we got home and after splitting the candy we bought, you went to your room and I left to do some stuff, and I didn't realize something was wrong until I came back and you started avoiding me. I tried to talk to you the next morning, but you weren't home, and I was so worried because I thought you'd left. Because of what I did..."

Sam felt his heart chattering in a million pieces. He was an _idiot_. He was a _fucking idiot_! How could he do that to his brother? And Dean thought... fuck, Dean thought he had forced Sam to do something he didn't want when in fact everything Sam wanted was to be like that with his brother. _Fuck_!

"Dean-" Sam cried, but Dean interrupted him again.

"It's my job to keep you safe." He said then, and he sounded like a mad man, but Sam didn't judge him for it this time. He just swallowed dry, feeling tears slipping down his cheeks. "I'm sorry."

"Damnit, Dean, stop fucking apologizing, you stupid jerk! This is all my fault!" Sam closed the space between them by walking to the chair and kneeling between Dean's knees, grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him lightly. Dean looked like he was about to double over in pain, his eyes red and lips pursed. "I avoided you because I thought you'd gone to a bar to try and hook up with someone else! You left a note saying that you were in town 'doing some stuff'! I was so pissed at you for going on a fucking date with me and then going out with someone else!"

Dean looked shocked. "I wasn't going out with someone else! Who do you think I am?!"

"I know, I'm sorry, I know you weren't."

"Then why did you ran away?"

"I didn't ran away, Dean, I swear. I just left my phone home. And when I got home and you started yelling at me, I got even more pissed at you, because I knew I shouldn't keep you from seeing someone else, but I still felt hurt about it and didn’t want you to go out with someone else, even after I realized you wouldn't just do something like this."

"Damn well I wouldn't." Dean whispered. Sam tried not to chuckle to himself at that.

"Now listen to me, you didn't step over any boundary. There is no boundary when it comes to me and you. Do you understand that?" Dean nodded, and Sam leaned his forehead against Dean's, closing his eyes and whispering, "I know I said that you're just my brother and that you don't own me, but you do. I am yours, and I've always been yours."

"Sam..."

"No, Dean, it is true. I've been waiting for you all my life, I've wanted you _all my life_. You're not just my brother, you're everything to me."

"You are to me, too. You know that, right?"

Sam smiled, leaning back to look into his brother's eyes. "I know."

"Can I kiss you?"

"You don't have to ask, Dean."

"But I want to hear you say it. Can I?"

"Yes."

Dean leaned down then, and kissed Sam lightly, pulling him up from the ground to the chair. Sam straddled Dean's hips and let himself be held by his big brother, accepting his tongue inside his mouth, and fisting his hand on Dean's soft hair. He kissed Sam softly, warmly, and Sam thought he was going to melt on his brother's lap.

Dean finished the kiss with a last lick at Sam's bottom lip, and pulled away to look at his face.

"If you ever pull that up again, I'm going to murder you, I swear Sam."

Sam laughed, hitting him on the chest. "Right, like you could."

"Hey! I did try to kill you with a hammer once!"

Sam laughed even more. "Too soon, dude!"

"Aw, c'mom, it's been two years already, Sammy."

"Yeah, right." Sam said, but he wasn't laughing anymore. Instead, he leaned forward and kissed Dean again, his chest filling with want and a desperate need.  
Dean kissed back just as eager, his finger dipping heavily on the sides of Sam's waist.

"Do you realize how hot you made me feel when you sucked me off the other day?" Sam asked between kisses, moving his hips lightly over his brother's. Dean groaned, attacking his neck hungrily. "I think about it every time. I touched myself to the memory of it..." 

"Fuck" Dean said, leaning back against the chair and squeezing Sam's body. "You gonna be the death of me, little brother."

This time, Sam groaned. Being called 'little brother' by Dean always made him a whole lot hotter than it should.

"Remember when you asked me what my kink was?" Sam asked, feeling bold enough to just finally spit everything out.

"Yeah" Dean replied, his mouth muffled by the skin under Sam's stubbly jaw. Sam could practically feel Dean blush.

"I lied." He said then, pulling up Dean's chin so he could look him in the eyes.

"What is it, then?" Dean asked, searching for something inside Sam's eyes. Despite being completely clothed, Sam felt naked under Dean's hot gaze. Sam's cock jumped inside his pants, and he could feel the growing pressure of Dean's under him.

Sam swallowed dry once more, this time for completely different reasons. "It's you. It's always been you."

Dean nodded, and kissed him again. This time, though, it was so sweet Sam had to fight against the tears forming in the corner of his eyes.

"It's always been you for me too." He said, pushing Sam's hair gently away from his face and kissing his forehead. "I've been wanting you forever, Sam. You're perfect, you're everything I asked for, and a whole lot more."

Once again, Sam fought not to cry, because it would have been seriously pathetic, so instead he smiled, kissing Dean's cheek instead.

"Thank you. Jerk."

"Bitch."


End file.
